The Shadow and The Kat
by Nightmarescribe
Summary: What IF? after WWII, Captain America, was lost to the ice of the North Sea? The Red Skull underwent surgery to take on his enemy's appearance and came to the United States to make a new Nazi Germany here on our shores. Young mutants Kurt Wagner and Kitty Pryde get caught up in the cruel machinery of the Fascist State, and it will take everything in them to try to survive, together.
1. Kurt - The Betrayal

**_ACT I_**

_What IF…?_

_What if Captain America never disappeared?_

_This story is based on a real What If, but from there it diverges sharply into fan-fic zone._

**_History:_**

_The Red Skull took Cap's place right after WWII via clever plastic surgery. The real Captain floated in his block of ice, while the world changed around him. As "Captain America", lionized hero of the grateful Allies, the Skull gradually but inexorably turned America and its allies into a fascist regime. After the war, the women working in the factories went back home, and domestic life drifted into a Ward and June Cleaver mode, and then calcified._

_Changes that began in the 1950's in the main 616 universe were derailed. Rock and Roll died stillborn when it was harshly suppressed as an obscene art form. The Civil Rights movement abandoned the Dream when the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. was found dead, killed by a whore in a sleazy motel. The Skull, now the U.S. president, declined to spend American lives in Korea, and later, in Vietnam. Instead, he appropriated the idea of **Shield** from Sergeant Fury._

_He built a Shield loyal to him, and backed it with the best technology, paid for by the money not wasted in Asian wars, creating a private army that outclassed anything in the world. The peace movement never happened, nor the sexual revolution. Without the help of Roe V. Wade and the Pill, free sex was too risky. Domestic life for women and children never really advanced past the role of legal chattels, and in some cases slipped even further backwards._

_When the mutants started appearing, they were treated worse than society was already treating Jews, and people of color. They were considered sub-human, and to be eliminated with prejudice. Xavier gathered his X-men, and Shield surrounded the mansion and burned it to the ground. Only a few survived the carnage and Magneto took them in, for in this world, his wildest paranoia was, if anything, naively optimistic._

_Most mutants who were discovered were killed. All that were left alive were sterilized. Some had their services sold as labor by the government. Some of the pretty ones were assigned to the personal harems of the wealthy elite of Shield, which was now the worldwide military government. The unlucky few considered malleable enough to program and dangerous enough to be useful as killers were sent to the Heli-Carrier, where they were trained to be Hounds: hunters of mutants, and political assassins._

_Reed Richards and his friends were prevented from attempting their launch and were never exposed to the cosmic rays. With no civilian nuclear programs there were no gamma ray experiments to make a Hulk, and no radioactive spiders. Peter Parker died when a meeting of the underground that was tipped off to the authorities. Tony Stark became a member of Shield's elite as a young man, becoming a protégé of Steve Rodgers, a.k.a. the Skull, who now was President-For-Life. Tony used his influence to force a marriage of convenience with Janet van Dyne, after having her scientist boyfriend, Hank Pym, killed._

_Shield laid siege to Greenwich for weeks, and took credit for the death of Doctor Strange. They suppressed rumored sightings of demons causing an implosion of the mansion. Thor battled the demons, and backed to the foot of Bifrost, he turned to shatter the Rainbow Bridge to prevent the invasion of Asgard. The Son of Odin and his foes alike both perished from the tactical Neutron bomb strike at the site of the Battle of Greenwich._

_The real Steve Rodgers was eventually found in his icy tomb but he wasn't thawed. He slumbered in a Shield laboratory where the Skull's scientist tried to pry the secrets of the Super Soldier Formula from his very flesh and blood._

_From this single change in the world's history, most of the Marvel Heroes died before they made an impact, or never had a chance to become heroic._

_And dread Mephisto laughed on his throne at a world turned to hate…_

* * *

><p>In the dimness of the big tent, the young man's heart raced as he climbed the creaky ladder to the high trapeze. A tingle of excitement always went through him when it was time to face the audience. He loved the skills of the acrobat, and with all due modesty, he knew that he was good at it. Very good.<p>

Good enough that he could work for a much better operation than this one-ring fleabag of a circus, except for one little difficulty. A bigger circus would mean more concentrated attention on him, enough perhaps that some of his awed viewers might notice that his outrageous appearance wasn't all due to his gaudy costume. The agile blue tail that trailed behind him _could_ possibly be a prop, and the blue of his face _could_ be make-up, but he didn't want to get close enough to the rubes form them to see any differently.

Performing in the circus was a dream of his. The whole experience was magic to his teenager's heart. The sights, sounds and smells of it pulsed in his veins and drifted in his dreams. He worked the high wires because he loved it so, and because this was one of the few ways he could help earn money for his gypsy clan, despite the terrible risks.

Jimmy, his blood brother, could get any kind of work at the towns they camped near; he looked as normal as their mother, Jimaine Szardos. Kurt knew he was lucky the gypsies hadn't left him to die. Grandmamma Margali told him many times about how she found him, a little blue babe hidden near the camp. Her daughter Jimaine had given birth only days before, and the foundling's thin wails touched her new mother's heart. She nursed Kurt alongside her green-eyed son, and raised them as brothers.

Hans, the owner of the circus knew the truth about him, and so did Rutger, his son, Kurt's trapeze partner. The new fascists of Shield weren't popular with most people, and especially so with fringe groups like carnies and gypsies. They knew Kurt was a nice, harmless lad despite his odd appearance, and he accepted a lot less money than his skills and draw warranted. Kurt knew he had steady work here, whenever the clan camped close enough to the circus to make the two-way trip under the cover of darkness.

He reached his perch, and smiled widely as the spotlight found him. The crowd roared approval at him and his heart swelled with pride. They'd get a good show with the Nightcrawler as the lead of the Trapeze act. He stood tall on the tiny platform and lifted one gloved hand, the other hand gripping his swing's bar. The music swelled and he pushed off.

The sound of the crowd followed him like a benediction, as he and Rutger performed their flying routine without a net. The spot followed him, dazzling his eyes, and making the floor of the tent an unfathomable darkness below him. The rhythm lulled him; swing, leap, grasp, swing, leap and return.

He was on the far swing now, his partner on the one he'd started on, when the first hint of oddness reached him. The crowd noises were as familiar to him as his own heartbeat, but this wasn't the usual sound of gasping, peasant conversation and barker calls. This sounded like fear, a fear that cut through the endorphin rush that always filled him when he performed.

He signaled to Rutger for a pause, and swung, hanging from his knees. The music continued, but without needing to concentrate on his next move he could hear things better. Mutters came up from the crowd - fearful, angry. Not the sound of a rapt audience, at all. Straining his ears, he heard scuffling boots, harsh low voices, and the unmistakable clacks that signaled the readying of automatic weapons. _Was?_

"Turn off those lights!" barked a voice. The spots clicked off, and the house lights came on, bring a more general light to the tent. "You up there, the freak! This is Shield, and you're under arrest!"

A stab of panic wracked Kurt, drenching him in nervous sweat. He could see the agents all through the crowd. A twinge of pain crossed his face as he saw the faces of the audience looking at him. Minutes before they were cheering his skills, but now they were pointing at him, frowning and saying ugly things. He flipped effortlessly around, and crouched on the swing, cringing from their hateful words. The pose seemed to be threatening to the watching agents, for they pointed their guns at him.

He had to get away; they were going to kill him. A dull ache blossomed in his head, and a warm rusty flow came from a nostril. His tearing eyes darted around the tent. All the entrances were heavy with Shield agents, and he could see no escape.

"Come down, NOW!" shouted the spokesman. "Or you will be shot."

In his mind's eye, Kurt could see the door to the trailer outside that he changed in, along with Rutger. He wanted to be there. _Nein_, he _needed_ to be there. Pain stabbed him again, as the image in his head took on a surreal reality he could almost touch. Something… something started to happen to him, then with the slam of a white-hot poker in his brain, that something, whatever it was, failed and his vision turned dark. Then he was losing his grip and falling from the swing to the sawdust an impossible distance below. The uniformed leader cursed, and the audience shouted. It was a blood hungry sound. One that said that the crowd who'd cheered his daring would be just as happy to see him crunch down into the ring… and maybe, they always had.

Falling, he strained upward at the moving swing now hopeless centimeters above him. Reality swam again and his world exploded in fire. _Is this hell?_

There was no pain in the eldritch flames that surrounded him, only a strange comforting warmth that stole into him. Then it was gone, and he was still falling, but now the swing was beside him. The crowd was eerily silent after the flash and soft noise of a report, almost as if a cannon had been fired a long way away. Stunned he watched the swing's grip pass his head again. His hands reached and missed, his feet were too clumsy in the concealing boots he wore. _Not again…_

His tail snaked out and wrapped round and round the grip like a lifeline, halting him with a suddenness that made him grunt. Trembling, he hung there for a moment, and then he once more climbed up onto the grip, holding both sides of the swing for balance.

"You got no place to go, mutie, so get down here, now." Kurt's golden eyes picked out the speaker now, an officer holding the ringmaster's gaudy bullhorn, and his service pistol.

_Climb down so you can execute me? Why not just shoot me now, and entertain the audience with my fall? _His mouth twisted in disillusionment, and he knew he'd never think of the circus in the same naive way again. He looked around again, seeking a way out, any way.

The tent billowed, wind flaps rustling in the breeze. They kept the tent safe from all but the strongest winds, and were larger than they looked. Large enough, perhaps, for a slender form to squeeze through. The fires burst around him again, welcoming, concealing, and this time he was ready. He grabbed the bottom of the flap before he could fall out of reach.

Blessing God for his slight frame, he pulled himself through it and found himself on the top slope of the tent. Gunfire rang out from below him, and he rolled quickly down the tent, hearing bullets tear through the canvas behind him. He paused gingerly on the edge; he was still a long way from the ground. The trailer was there, to the right. Surely he could hide there for a bit, then use his new skill to get away.

He actually needed to see where he was going, it seemed. The time he near fainted he was trying to go to a memory, not something he could see._BAMF!_ And he was in the shadows of the trailer. Seeing no one around, he stepped to the door and pulled it open. A Shield man stood inside, with a pistol leveled at him. With a cold smile, he fired. Kurt felt stab of pain to his chest, and he died…

The limp form was bundled into a van and the officer stood at the edge of the grounds, while his men evacuated the circus. A dark haired man stood in the shadows, non descript clothes doing nothing to hide the Romany accent in his voice. "He came to the camp a few months ago. He was hungry, and the women folk were too softhearted to turn him away. But me, I got family to worry about, and he would be nothing but trouble for us."

Stefan Szardos ran his hand through his hair, refusing to think about how his sister and her bastard boy would react to the loss of the young mutant she'd raised. "So I sell him to you, and you report that we gypsies are good solid citizens, _Ja?_

The officer gave him a thick envelope, and smiled thinly. "You did a good job here… Anton, did you say your name was?"

"I didn't." Stefan took the money, and turned away.

Dreams recalled him. Disturbing dreams. Chains, and cages. Mocking laughter and endless droning. Tasteless gruel and bitter water. Rough hands, dragging him along. Gradually he became aware that he wasn't dead. He wanted to touch his chest, but he couldn't move his hand, either of them. He couldn't move at all, except a small length of tail at the very end. He was blindfolded, but he could hear voices.

"You've almost kept the subject drugged too long. He was nearly dehydrated."

"He'll live, right? That's the important thing."

"Now, he will," answered the first voice.

A third voice intruded. "Shit, what am I supposed to do with this one? Tattoo him white? I ain't got 'nough inks." Rough fingers grabbed Kurt's chin, and only the blocks beside his head kept him from turning his face away to avoid them. "What is this fuck? Fur? No tat's gonna show through that. I say leave 'im alone. He don't need a mask to prove he's a mutie."

The second voice answered coolly. "A mutant, yes. But he has nothing to show that he is a Hound. Aren't there other ways to mark the skin?"

"Well, there's branding, but that makes 'em kinda shocky."

"Not a good idea, the first voice said, "He's still pretty weak due to the transport from Europe.

_Unreal,_ Kurt thought, _Don't they care I can hear them?_

"What else?" said the second voice.

"Scarifyin'. Ya lightly cut the skin in the pattern you want, and maybe rub in an irritant. Fur or no fur, I'll bet it'll heal up in ridges, as clear as any tat.

"Good. Do it."

"Right on! Hey doc, can I borrow a scalpel?"

"Don't touch my instruments, they're sterile." Kurt heard a drawer open. "Here."

"Like's he's gonna be, huh?" Fingers unbound the blindfold, and Kurt blinked at the sudden light. Besides the blurry form before him, all he could see was the ceiling. "Eerie fuck, ain't he?"

"Get on with it, will you? I have a surgical procedure to perform."

The man who'd taken off the blindfold could have worked in the circus. He was burly and bald, with blue green patterns covering his head and part of his face. His short-sleeved shirt showed more tattoos on his neck and all down his arms.

He leaned over Kurt, shiny blade in his hand, and beer on his breath. "Try not to flinch, eh?" he chuckled. "I don't wanna mess up the pattern." A paper rattled next to Kurt's head blocks, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the knife moved close to them.

Pain, and fire moved out and up from his eyebrow. The man was drawing lines of blood on his face with the scalpel, and Kurt trembled, fighting the urge to start screaming. Crimson flowed from the cuts, and the man stopped every now and then to mop it off with a cloth that stung and smelled of rubbing alcohol.

Several lines sliced across his brow, his temples, and his cheeks. A line went down his nose, and more bracketed his mouth. The last cuts were on his chin. Fire traced along every cut, as if he could see them, inverted, from inside his head. Kurt closed his eyes, and he moaned.

There was movement near his head again, and he snapped his eyes opened and saw the tattooed man sprinkle something black on the cuts.

"Might I ask what that is?"

"Stab'lized powered charcoal, Doc. Clean enough, and it'll make the scars keloid up nice. His skin's real dark, so he prob'ly don't need it, niggers usually don't. But… his features look white under the fur, so just in case… Hmmm. Vinegar might help." [*]

"Just so he doesn't get an infection. I don't care to have him in my clinic for an extended stay."

Stinging sour liquid splashed into his wounds, and despite his best efforts, a thin whine escaped from Kurt. "He's all yours, Doc."

The doctor moved into his line of sight. He was utterly unremarkable in appearance, except the small round shield pin on the lapel of his lab coat near to the embroidered Eagle. He briskly looked at the oozing cuts and taped gauze over them. He removed the head blocks, and Kurt wasted no time in checking around the room. It was a clinic. He could see the open door, and his eyes widened as he willed the fire to come. A shock came from a collar around his neck and nausea washed over him.

"No teleporting for you, not until we say so." This came from a man in a Shield officer's uniform, sitting to one side, observing everything.

Kurt's head lolled to the side, and he saw the paper next to his head. It was a sketch of a face, with a starburst pattern inked over it, a pattern that matched the lines of pain on his face. _Gott, as if I wasn't enough of a freak, now this…_

The tattooed man grinned at Kurt. "Welcome to the Vet's, furry," he said. He pointed down Kurt's body and to an instrument tray nearby.

Kurt was naked, strapped thoroughly to an examination table. His chest, upper and lower arms were strapped tightly down, and his hands were taped into leather bags. His legs were drawn up in stirrups, bound at the thigh, knee, and calves to the metal armature, his feet also in heavy bags.

Past his right hip he could see his tail bound to the table with wide silver tape. He could feel his tail trailed down the side of the table, and from there to the floor, leaving only a few inches at the end able to move. It flopped desperately back and forth like a landed fish.

More embarrassing than being naked was the posture he was forced into. His buttocks were perched on the edge of the table and his genitals hung slightly over the edge, exposed.

The instruments the tat man gestured at was a tray of surgical tools; shiny, clean, and many of them very sharp.

"_Was…_ what are you doing to me?" His voice trembled, and was higher than he wanted it to be.

The first two men didn't answer, but the tat man barked in laughter. "What happens to any stray dog brought to the pound?" He stepped forward and put a foot lightly on the lashing tail end. "The Doc's here's gonna make sure you keep singin' soprano." As he spoke the doctor put a stool between Kurt's suspended feet and cleaned his scrotum thoroughly with a cold alcohol swab.

Kurt's sharp teeth chattered as the whine returned to his throat. He breathing sped up until he was nearly hyperventilating. _"Oh, Gott im Himmel. Nein, nein, nein…"_

"Calm yourself, please. My… 'colleague' is kidding. You are not going to be castrated, but merely given a vasectomy." He continued prepping his instruments, speaking conversationally to the officer. "You know Major, I had my doubts about the policy to sterilize all mutants. Some subject's gifts would be useful if allowed to reproduce. But then I see someone, well, some-_thing_ like this… The policy is wiser than I realized."

The doctor adjusted a light, and made a quick incision on the tender flesh he'd cleaned.

Kurt screamed. _No anesthesia? _The pain of the earlier cuts was absolutely nothing compared to this. He couldn't make himself stop moaning.

"If he's as different on the inside as he is on the outside I may have to remove his testicles to ensure his infertility." The doc moved the light closer, and poked a gloved finger experimentally into the incision. The tat man gulped and stepped outside, but the Major was unmoved by the sight. "Well, it looks pretty normal in here. I should be able to finish a standard procedure without difficulty."

Kurt looked down in horror as the doctor pulled a blood-slicked tube from his scrotum.

"There's the first _Vas Deferens_," he said. Bringing up his scalpel, he severed it neatly, then lifted up a glowing electric wire, and seared the ends shut. "Now for the other," he said, and made the second incision.

The room echoed with Kurt's howls. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and then the room went mercifully black...

_[DISCLAIMER: For the most part, these aren't my characters, they belong to Marvel. Only the dilemmas are mine.]_

[A/N: You may notice that I always capitalize Shield, but never write it as an acronym. That's because my version of Shield isn't one. In this world, Captain America (a.k.a. The Red Skull), founded the organization based on Nick Fury's concepts, but he named it directly for the Shield he wore, as a way to symbolize its "protective" function in his twisted society...]

[*A/N: I know **nothing** about Scarification except what I looked up one night on the web for this story. You wanna know more? Google it.]

[See info on Marvel canon "S.H.I.E.L.D" (and the various things those initials have stood for over the years) at toonpedia dot com, among other places. This story is complete, but last updated in 2005, before the MCU was in existence, so as I go through my new edit I'll add any required references both in A/Ns and in the story. It might help to think of this story's Shield as to be wholly comprised of Hydra, which is really rather apt, considering recent developments in the MCU.]


	2. Kitty - The Hounding

Deerfield High was such a drag. Kitty Pryde had felt important in Junior High. A teacher favorite, she'd been on the student council, and easily had the highest G.P.A in her year group. Now she was just a freshman, and the smallest, youngest kid in many of her classes. She'd taken High School credits last year, and she'd been able to skip some required first year curricula of the Chicago school system.

She was a nobody again. Worse, she'd been labeled 'the uppity frosh' for daring to intrude in classes she didn't belong in. Some of the kids she used to feel distantly superior to obviously relished the sight of her being put in her place. Kitty had to admit, she'd been pretty rotten to some of them, and she was beginning to understand how they felt.

Her cocoa colored hair fell over her eyes as she walked down the hallway. She had so not counted on being set back to the bottom of the totem pole at the new school. Sometimes smart people just missed the obvious stuff… _Ouch_. She rebounded off the lockers next to her, dark brown eyes looking up at the smirking sophomore who'd 'accidentally' slammed into her.

"Watch where you're going, brains," he snarled, and she didn't bother to argue. Rubbing her shoulder, she merely nodded, and headed for her class.

Class was halfway over when an odd set of tones went off through the intercom system. _Was that some kind of drill?_

The teacher stopped mid-sentence. "Alright class, put your books and bags in your locker, and report for the assembly. For you freshmen, don't try to leave the school grounds, because they'll have today's attendance reports.

"Who will?" Kitty whispered to her neighbor as they got up from their desks.

"Shield," Jenny answered.

From the time kids entered the school system, they were tested at least once a year. In middle school it was once a semester. _'Twice the needles, twice the fun'_, the saying went among the kids. From ten years of age on, reference photographs; front, back and profile accompanied the blood tests.

Kitty heard that in High School it came quarterly. They were randomly scheduled, and no excuse was accepted. Students who were absent were tracked down at their homes or other locations. Anyone who came up missing was assumed to be a fugitive from Shield. Every district had an incident or two of that kind a year, and the staff drilled the students with the unpleasant results.

She could see the black trailers parked next to the Gym. The kids filed into the big building and sat on the bleachers. The principal said something about civic pride and duty and introduced the Captain in charge of the testing.

"These are your formative years. High School testing is, by necessity, the most important and the most intrusive you will ever undergo. As many of you already know, your baseline photographs will have you in your underclothes. We will be calling names in alphabetical order, this time. Raise your hands if you need to use the restrooms and you will be given an escort to and from the facilities. Remain orderly, and we'll be done as quickly as possible. That is all."

_In my underwear? Oh God._ Kitty buried her face in her hands. _How could they?_

"…and Pryde, Katherine. Your section is next. Assemble in a line at the side door." Kitty only half heard her name, but Jenny poked her and hissed, "It's your turn."

She gulped and went with the others of her group. At the exit, they were separated into two groups; boys and girls, and sent out three at a time to the trailers. Her group was second. She paused in the entry room of the trailer. It was about a quarter of the total of the trailer's length, and featured a couple of benches and some shelves and hooks for belongings. Also present was an armed Shield agent.

"Strip to your skivvies, girls." He leered as he said it, and then tapped on the wall of the nearest compartment. "Come on Jerry, you got more porn to shoot." He looked back at the undressed girls, smiling cruelly at the well-built blonde trembling next to Kitty. "You don't think we use those pics just for the records, do ya?"

Jerry' came out of his room with an expensive looking camera. The smell of chemicals drifted out after him and Kitty realized it must be a dark room. He set the camera up on the tripod mounted to the floor, and motioned for the blonde to come forward. He looked and sounded bored. "Stand at the end of the hall. Put your feet in the yellow marks. When I tell you, turn and stand in the red footprints, then turn again on my say, and stand in the green marks. Got it?"

He didn't wait for an answer, just bent down to focus the camera. The blonde girl, Kitty didn't know her name, scurried down to the marks. She stood in place, and jumped to obey when he snapped orders. "Red," and a little later, "Green." He leaned up and pointed to the compartment door nearest her. "Go in that room." Turning to the front he said, "Next."

The guard motioned at Kitty, and she walked stiffly down to the marks. She put her feet in the yellow outlines, and saw printing on the floor just beyond them. 'Stand straight & keep your hands at your sides.' She slowly uncurled her arms from around her slight chest and forced herself to face the camera. _Click._ "Red," he grunted. Kitty turned to face the right as the marks showed. She was sure he'd taken more than one picture of the blonde girl in each position. _Click._ "Green." She turned her back to the camera, and heard him take the final photograph.

"Middle room," he said. "Next."

Kitty stepped into the compartment as the last girl took her place at the camera marks. The tiny room contained a table for the testing machine and two chairs. One chair held a Shield agent, and he gestured with his head for her to take the other. He studied the folder in front of him as she sat. "Jew, huh?" he said with a slight sneer. "Too bad. You're kinda cute."

With that he launched into a prepared battery of questions. Did she get headaches? How bad? How often? Any bloody noses? Ever had altered vision, hearing, or other senses? Any more _unusual_ perceptions? Kitty answered him with a low voice, wishing she could just fall through the wall.

Her answers must have been acceptable, because he turned the folder to her. "Review your answers and initial here, and remember this is a legal document." She initialed where he indicated. He took a small flashlight and looked closely at her eyes, and into her ears. With a tongue depressor he looked down her throat. He then asked her to stand, and patted her down brusquely.

"Place your hand on the plate," he said, and pulled a strap in place across the back of her hand. "There's going to be a sting." He pressed a button and the needle stabbed into her palm. She bit back a whimper, as she felt blood drip into the machine. A light came on and he freed her hand, giving her a cotton wad.

He pushed a pamphlet at her. "Read this while we let old Vlad, here, study your fluids." She read the information about how it was her duty as a citizen to report anyone she knew with mutant powers, including herself.

Minutes passed. The wall behind her shook slightly, rhythmically. The agent looked up at her, and grinned. "Is she pretty?" he asked. She nodded. He made a face, checking on the machine. "Lucky bastard," he muttered. Kitty turned crimson when she realized what he was implying. At least he wasn't leering at her…

A knock on the door sometime later roused a sigh from her tester. "Go get dressed, okay? Sometimes Vlad takes longer than others." She escaped into the hall, and went to her clothes. The blonde was crying silently as she and the other girl finished dressing. Kitty put on her shirt and socks under the bored gaze of the machine gun carrying guard. The man with the gun called down the hall, "They clear to go?"

"Not yet," said her tester, leaning out of his cubby. "I'm still waiting on the blood work." Kitty picked up her school skirt when a strange staggered buzzing noise came past him. _Bu-buzzz, bu-buzzz, bu-buzzz._ "Holy!" shouted her tester. "Positive!"

Before Kitty quite realized what he meant, the guard leveled his gun at her, and was snarling at her to freeze. The other girls cringed away from the weapon… and the floor was moving up her body and past her head.

She stopped falling with a groan, crouching under the trailer, holding her throbbing head. She heard the door above her slam open, and an alarm blared loudly in the same staggered pattern as before. A man's voice shouted hoarsely, "Escape Event!"

The guard ducked to look under the trailer, gun ready. She dropped the skirt she held and ran blindly, away from them, and off the school grounds. Nothing impeded her flight, she just ran straight through any solid obstacle.

Blocks away, she panted in the shadow of a building. She was half naked and she thought she'd die of embarrassment if anyone saw her like this. A lady just didn't show off her legs… except she wasn't a lady, was she? She was a mutant, who could walk through things. What did she think she was doing? She should have surrendered there in the trailer, and now she was in big trouble. The gun had scared her so much… but what could she do about it now?

Dad. He always knew what to do. She found her bearings, and started sneaking back to her neighborhood. A white blouse and nearly-as-white bare legs were going to make it hard for her to hide very well, though…

Her sleepy suburb of Chicago was thankfully quiet during school hours. Keeping to alleys and shadowy areas, she found a place where she could see her house. Shield was already there, and her heart thumped painfully.

Her mother was kneeling in the yard under guard. Her fingers were interlaced on top of her head, and she was crying. On the hood of one of the vehicles were the articles Kitty had left behind, her shoes, the skirt, and her school bag. Another Shield car drove up, and her father joined her mom as hostage on the lawn.

Kitty phased through the concealing fence and slowly walked to the sidewalk of her house with her hands up. She approached her fate, trembling at all the hostile eyes on her. In front of her parents, she stopped, staring at the ground.

"Well, Kikes, looks like your mutie daughter has some sort of family loyalty left. How _sweet._" He threw a large ring on the ground near her. "Put that around your neck, and click it closed," he ordered, "unless you want to watch us shoot them.

She picked up the ring with a shaking hand. It was a metal loop with electronics attached. She put it on, and sealed the catch. A feeling of sickness rolled over her instantly, and she swayed where she stood. Strong hands grabbed her from behind before she could fall. With a flash of fear, she tried to phase out the painful grip. Her belly heaved in complaint, and she stayed solid.

The officer looked down at her parents. "So, your story is you didn't see any signs of her becoming a mutant?"

"None," her father said, "Just as we told you."

"Fine, you can get up. You'll undergo more interrogation later until we're certain of that. Now say bye-bye to the mutie."

Her parents rose and looked at her, helplessness and fear on their faces. "_Shalom_, Katherine," Dad said. "God be with you." Mom nodded, still crying.

The officer looked disgusted. "Fucking Jews. Get her in the car."

Hazy snapshots of memories were all that she could later recall of that night, and much of the next day. She was processed at the Chicago Shield offices. They clipped her brown wavy locks short, and deloused her. Kitty spent a restless night in a holding cell, unable to eat or sleep.

The next day they gave her a gray jumpsuit to put on over her undergarments. She was driven back to Deerfield High, where she was paraded in front of the student body. She stood slumped in handcuffs, inhibitor collar visible on her neck. She'd seen a glimpse of herself in a window, and barely knew the face she'd seen. The captain was telling the kids that it could be them, if they weren't vigilant.

She lifted her eyes and looked at the kids who just yesterday were her peers. Hateful looks and pleased expressions at her downfall marked most of them. Some just looked away from her, like Jenny.

After that, she was driven to the airport, where they boarded a Shield transport. She dozed in her seat until someone nudged her roughly. "Take a look, kid. Your new home is just ahead."

It was the Heli-carrier, a marvel of engineering. Fully as large as its oceanic counterparts, it cruised the country thousands feet above the ground. Great maneuvering props turned idly from the passing winds. She wondered how it hovered in the air like that. It certainly wasn't by the prominent propellers that edged the upper deck. As soon as their plane landed, she was hustled below.

In a shabby but clean room an odious man covered with tattoos gave her a mocking grin. He readied his needles and began to work on her. The tattooing hurt, and he wouldn't stop, and it covered her whole face. He turned her to face a mirror when he'd finished.

Her face looked like raw hamburger, all bloody welts, swollen flesh, and black ink deeply introduced. She couldn't even tell what she was supposed to look like. He must have seen it in her expression, because he chuckled. "Over there, sweets," he said. A hand-sketched face bearing a starburst design was pinned to the wall. "Yer a Hound, now."

The tattoo was bandaged, and she was taken to a surgical room. Her clothing was taken from her, and her arms, legs, and chest were strapped down to the table. Someone put a mask over her face. The room swam around her, and she slept.

She awoke in a hospital ward, and her stomach hurt. There were two distinct incisions on her belly, and she could trace the stitches through the thin shift she wore. She'd been fixed.

The time she spent in recovery was sort of like the time she'd had her appendix removed, except the staff never smiled, and never took no for an answer.

She still hurt when she was release to the dorms, but not as much. After she was settled, a guard escorted her after she was settled to a large room. Two agents awaited her, a man and a woman.

"Hound, we are your trainers," said the man. "Now that you are healed, your life is our hands. You will do as we say, or you will be punished. You will develop your strength and abilities under our direction in an attempt to make your pathetic life useful to Shield. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir" Kitty whispered. She never saw the ringing slap that burned across her face.

"When you are addressed you will answer clearly. Do you understand that?"

"Y-y-yes, sir," she said firmly. She winced, hoping he wouldn't strike her for the stutter.

"Better. Now, you were given your first conditioning session while you were under for your surgery. Let's see how much you remember of it." He nodded to his partner, and the familiar strains of the Shield march began playing in the room.

Kitty blinked, and straightened up. She felt she should stand at attention for the song, just as she would for the national anthem. A whispering voice in head spoke to her. _This is the music of those who saved you from death. Show respect and you will live._

"Good reaction," he smiled briefly. It was the first approving expression directed her way since the day she was discovered to be a mutant. "Now let's see if you remember your oath." He suddenly snapped a question at her. "Who do you belong to?"

The mind whisper supplied the answer. "I… I belong to Shield."

"What do they own of yours?"

Again, the words came from depths unknown. "They own… my breath."

He scowled and she flinched. "That's 'my very breath'," he corrected. "Say it again."

"They own my very breath," she managed to say.

"How is it that you will live, mutant?"

"I live at their whim. I…" her voice trailed off, unsure.

"And how is it that you will die?"

"I… die… at their whim." This was barely said above a whisper.

"Now say them together, and louder," he ordered.

"I live at their whim, I die at their whim." The truth of the words was like a chill in her heart.

"How will you serve, in order to extend your miserable existence?"

"I will serve in whatever I am commanded." She was glad she'd gotten all that out without another prompt from him. And all the while, the music played in the background.

"Now you will practice that some more… but you're doing it all wrong!" The last words were a furious shout. Kitty cringed away and whimpered.

He moved closer to her, eyes dangerous and his voice intense and low. "When you hear the music of Shield, or see the banner of the great organization that saw fit to spare your worthless mutant life, you should be on your knees!"

Hurriedly she knelt on the cold metal floor. The woman turned the record over and a clear voiceover could be heard over the music. He loomed over her, eyes still angry. "Now, you will recite along with the record until I give you permission to stop."

Kitty nodded quickly, and spoke along with the voice. "…I live at their whim, I die at their whim. I will serve in whatever I am commanded. I belong to Shield. They own my very breath…"

**_Rural Germany..._** Sparks leaped and popped from the campfire. The boy's chestnut hair fell in disordered locks over his shadowed eyes. Jimaine studied his firm profile, so like his father's. He looked up at the sky, and she resisted the urge to join his mournful upward stare. He turned his face to her, and the fire caught his eyes, like chips of emerald set ablaze.

"Do you think he's alive, mother?" Jimmy said.

That was the easy question. "Yes. If they intended to kill him, they would have done it at the circus. As long as he does what they want, he'll live."

"Do you think he's alright?" His voice was husky, and moisture wavered, pooling under his eyes.

She sighed. "I don't know, son, but it's a sure thing that they are not being gentle with him."

The threatening tears trailed down his cheek, forgotten. His eyes turned as cold as the northern seas, even in the firelight. She shuddered at the grim set of his mouth. He was so like her lover, the way he'd been when he left her to fight for his kind, and Kurt's.

So very like him.


	3. Kurt - The Infiltrator, Nightcrawler

Months had passed since Kurt had come to the Heli-Carrier. Months in which his groin stopped hurting and his scars healed. He sat on his bunk waiting for lights out in the Hounds Dorm, his chin on his knees and his arms and tail wrapped tightly around him. He'd suffered another session with the tattooed man. Some of his scars didn't ridge up high enough the first time, so they were recut. But even that was healed now.

His tail tip twitched at the memory, and he grabbed it tightly to keep it still. As soon as he could safely exert himself, they'd set him to strength training and acrobatic practice. It was nothing he hadn't done before, but the fierce intensity of the work was new to him. He learned what was expected of him as a Hound: to obey on pain of death.

The litany was a perversion and purest blasphemy. They sought to make Shield his God, his religion, and his very world. If he were a stronger man, he would have refused and joined the martyrs of the faith with the blessed Name on his lips. Instead, he mouthed the words they wanted and repented in the night. To live was a strong urge in him, and he felt… he felt that God still had a purpose for him, in this life.

The foul oath wasn't the only cross he had to bear in this horrible place. His fellow Hounds didn't seem to like him. Even now, hunched tight on his bunk, he turned his head away in distaste from their ribald stories and jokes. His neighbor on the next bunk laughed at him, "Aw, the altar boy's gettin' all offended again." The jokes only got filthier in response.

The guard ordered them to bed, and turned off the lights. Kurt lay down under his covers, still curled protectively around himself. A Hound's life wasn't as aesthetic as he thought. The others talked about mixed genders parties that Hounds on good report could attend. After giving the clinic a negative sperm count, he'd been eligible. He didn't go the first time he could. The jests indicated an abandonment of morals and a wholehearted embrace of casual sex.

Last month he had gone, for the hope of some companionship. Kurt stifled a sigh.

When he arrived, at first the partiers had ignored him. Equal parts relieved and disappointed, he turned to leave. A mannish looking woman stopped him. "Wait, we gotta rule here. No one who comes is turned away." The Hound tattoo made her strong features even less feminine than her face structure deserved.

Her name was Karla, and she took him to one of the curtained alcoves. Many of them were in use, and some of the couples weren't bothering with the curtains. He closed theirs, and found her immediately reaching for the zipper of his jumpsuit.

He gently captured her hands. "_Nein_, please, I…"

"Don't you want to fuck?" she said frowning.

"No… I just wanted some company."

"Are you gay?" she hissed, "Because you shoulda said…"

"I just wanted to talk with someone," he said. "I want to hear a voice that isn't full of hate and anger. I want to talk about the weather, or… anything, that's not about… killing."

She looked away. "We don't usually do that here. You're cutting into my chance for sex tonight."

"I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I release you from the rule. You can go." He sat down slumped on the bed, ignoring the multitude of suspicious stains on the covers.

She stood at the curtain for a moment, ready to leave, and then turned back around. "I'll give you an hour, that way I can still try for some. An hour's all we have to give, anyway." She sat down next to him, and looked at his tail. "Actually it's kinda nice to have a guy look my face for once." She smiled.

He smiled back at her. Her eyes were a soft blue.

"So," she said. "What do you want to talk about?"

It had lasted all too short a time, that awkward conversation. But the memory of a rare act of kindness relaxed him finally, and he fell asleep…

…Until blankets were thrown over him, and fists began slamming into him. Kurt was their favorite nighttime target, ever since they'd noticed how little bruises showed through his indigo fur. He defended himself as best he could, and hoped they would tire of it soon…

He entered the training room, and bowed low to his trainers, and the major he'd met that first day. Turning, he kneeled fluidly before the eagle bedecked Shield emblem on the wall. They listened to the words he spoke aloud, and he was only glad they couldn't hear the words that he spoke in his heart. _"Vater unser im Himmel, geheiligt werde dein Name. Dein Reich komme. Dein Wille geschehe, wie im Himmel so auf Erden…"_

It was a dangerous game he played. If they had made him speak the Shield oath in German, he probably couldn't have gotten away with it. They seemed happy with his reverent expression and his flawless English recitation, while he silently fed his heart with prayers in his mother tongue. It bothered him to appear to bow to their false religion, but he knew that his true worship was to God alone.

He remembered that eagles were in the scriptures, and that Paul had told bondservants to obey their masters as if obeying God. The Lord had put him into these hands, and there must be some purpose to it that Kurt didn't yet understand.

He rose and bowed to them again. He no longer wore the collar, for where would he go? They had taken him to the top deck and let him look down at the ground, spread below like a distant patchwork quilt. To take his own life was a sin, and he was certain he would die if he ported off the Carrier.

They told him to warm up, and he began. A few winces and a hiss or two later, and one of them stopped him. "What's the matter with you?"

"My uniform is tight, and… my muscles hurt."

Trainer Birne pulled him to their table and turned a bright light on him. He squinted his sensitive eyes from the glare, and stood as they inspected the fighting togs he wore and the puffy bruises on his dark face. Birne took a blade and loosened some seams across his shoulders and along his thighs. "New ones are being made, but you've grown faster than we've anticipated, and getting good muscle."

Kurt tried not to flinch as he probed his swollen cheekbone. "This come from a guard?"

"No, _mein Herr_."

Birne looked at the cold-faced officer. "This has gone on long enough. The Hounds are beating him up at night, and it's hindering his training. As if we wouldn't notice unauthorized marks on him."

The officer looked at him appraisingly. "Strip to the waist."

Kurt undid the top of his cat suit, and pushed it down to his hips. More swollen patches were visible on his body, purple even under the fine, dark fur.

"Is what he said true?"

"_Jawohl_, major," he said to his feet.

"Very well, you've made your point. He'll be given separate quarters, and you will be reassigned immediately. Report to Hound command for a new subject. You've become too close to this one."

"Yes, sir," Birne answered, and left the room. A new trainer came in as the major left. The man stared at him, then studied his files for a long time.

"Alright, Sunshine," the new man growled. "Gear up and show us what you can do."

He finished his warm-up, and more adjustments made to his suit. It was especially flexible at his joints, but was now far too confining in spots for his growing frame.

His senior trainer put him on 'rescue' work today. An ungainly bundle equal to his own weight was strapped to his back. He had to negotiate his obstacle course with it, while automatic weapons and the trainers fired at him with paint balls.

Kurt ran the course so burdened, twice. The first time he received a solid mark of paint, and ten pushups, but the second time he only bore the splatters of near misses. He was glad to get the bundle off his back.

He was allowed a chance to rest, and then he was set to a strenuous acrobatics sequence, the moves called out at random from a list of moves he'd been trained in. He was still panting from that when he was called to the trainer's table. The new trainer launched into an attack, snapping punches and kicks at him at full speed and power. Kurt defended himself, blocking most of the blows.

Trainer Combs said offhandedly, "He won't stop until you get a sold hit back on him. Get him before he gets you."

Kurt narrowed his eyes and took the initiative in the fight, returning the attacks to the best of his ability. They traded several strikes, and then Kurt ported behind him and knocked him flat with a roundhouse kick to the side of the head.

"Very good," Combs said, while the new man gave a little groan and sat up. "And since you've broached the use of your power, we're doing weight training today." Kurt fought off a sigh. He hated this part. The trainer threw him a heavy sack. "You know the drill, port with that across the room and back."

Porting with weights was hard, and they kept increasing them. _Bamf_. He appeared on the big room's far side, then he bamfed back. "Drop it," the trainer said, and he did in time to catch the next, even heavier bag. He ported across with it, and stopped, his sides heaving, until he scraped up the focus to return.

"That's just pathetic you know," said Combs. "That's only a hundred pounds, and you're sucking wind to get it back. The major wants you up to 150 pounds as soon as possible. You need to be able to port another person with you on a mission, or what the hell are we wasting our time on you for?"

Kurt stood very still. He knew what the fate was for Hounds who didn't live up to expectations: Their suspended death sentence was summarily carried out.

"I will do better, _mein Herr_," he said. He hefted the bag again, and took it across once more. Despite the throbbing pain, he brought it back as soon as his eyes marked out a location. He appeared with it, and it dropped from his hands. He crumpled in on himself, slumping into his characteristic crouch as his nose dripped blood on the front of his suit.

"Alright," Combs said, handing him some gauze. "I can see you're making an effort here. When you get the bleeding under control, go with your new trainer to the weight room. I want you to do twenty reps on each machine, then you can shower. After dinner, I'll have your kit, and I'll take you to your new quarters."

"Thank you, _mein Herr_," Kurt said. He dabbed at his nose and caught his breath. The weight room wasn't a bad way to end the session. Twenty reps was a lot of work, as tired as he was, but it was mindless effort. He didn't think he'd be able to handle anything else that required concentration or thought.

When he finished eating, Combs arrived, with Kurt's locker and several boxes on a hand truck that he passed to Kurt. They negotiated several halls, and took a freight elevator to what had to be near the bottom of the Carrier. The hall they arrived in was dusty and little used. The door they stopped at looked like it was an afterthought.

"These were built as quarantine quarters for the staff. They're full facilities for two. You're still required to have dinner in the dining hall, but you are allowed to have your other meals here. Don't skip any, or all your meals will be in the dining hall." He looked at Kurt to make sure he understood. "Most of it was fully finished, but I'm told some of it is still a little rough. Just be sure you take extra time to get to and from anywhere, because you're way down here now."

Kurt nodded, and Combs left. He opened the door into a neatly appointed kitchenette, complete with refrigerator and stove. To the left a narrow hall eventually opened to a larger room. In the middle of the hall, a door revealed a surprising large bathroom that he wouldn't have to share with anyone.

Past the bath was a bedroom with two separate full mattresses. Returning though the kitchen, he went past the separating bar, and entered the main room. Here the plastering had stopped, and the far end of the room, where the ceiling dropped abruptly from eight feet to a little over six, was paneled in bare sheetrock. From the dusty hallway outside, to the far wall, no room was wider than 15 foot. They had an air of being crammed into a narrow available space.

Kurt carried his trunk to the nearest bed, and looked through the boxes on the cart. One held bedding, and another contained towels and washing gear. He took them both, dropping the bathing box off in the open bathroom, and piled the bedding on his trunk.

The rest of the boxes held some kitchen utensils and a respectable amount of foodstuffs. It seemed he really would be permitted to have some independence down here. All it cost him was the dubious company of his fellow Hounds.

He took his time, and began to put things away. It wasn't home, but it was better than the dorm.

It was noisy down here. Engineering was just on the far side of the outside hall, and most of the Carrier's power was generated 'down below'. The second time he woke up from some odd clanging noise he got up in his boxers and started to pace the bare main room.

After a while, from sheer boredom, he jumped up and started to wall-walk. He clung to the vertical surfaces with ease, scuttling on all fours around the room's walls as easily as he'd paced the floor. At the back wall, a slab of sheetrock shifted under his weight, and he lightly jumped back from it to the floor.

He came up to the slab, examining its edges and trying to make it rattle. He struck it with his fist, and cocked his head at the hollow thump it made, and the whispering echoes that followed. He hit it again, and listened to the echoes more closely. What kind of space was behind the wall?

Kurt went to the kitchen and picked up the hand truck, and brought it to the slab. He crouched beside the truck and ran his hands over it, considering. Picking it up by the sides he turned it upside down, and slammed into the sheetrock with the bottom edge, like an awkward dull axe. It made a satisfactorily deep cut in the slab, and he brought it down again and again. Soon he'd chopped a dark hole in the wall the size of his head. He reversed the cart again, and rammed at the crumbling edges of the hole with the hard steel handle.

The half-inch pipe of the truck seemed up the task. He could see the two by four framing that the sheetrock was nailed to. Using the limited tools he had, he cleared the slab and cross-board from the wooden frame section, and looked out into the yawning dark beyond. He turned off all the lights, and allowed his golden eyes to adjust.

It wasn't completely black, because he could see a dim light filtering through from far above. He slipped through, and seemed to be between two hulls of the Carrier. The far hull was night-cold metal, but the inner wall was more room temperature. It was a little wider between these walls than his rooms were. Here, between the walls, bare iron girders, steel support cables, and air ducts loomed in the spaces above him, gradually blocking out the faint light. A smile curved his lips as he studied the nearby surfaces. He gripped the edge of a great I-beam, and started to climb.

About forty feet up, another beam crossed the first. He crawled out onto it and stretched on his belly. He let his arms dangle down on either side, but his toes curled just over the ledges of the beam, and he wrapped his tail loosely around it. He closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure. It was far too long since he'd been able to climb for the pure enjoyment of it.

That noise… was that a bird? Getting to his feet he sought a way higher up. A hundred feet above the deck below he was near the top of the space. Ten to fifteen feet above him was a steel riveted ceiling, but in the outer wall was a vent. Five yards long, and two yards tall, it was made of louvered vanes a mere four inches apart. Sitting on a beam level with the vent, he could see the moonlit clouds outside the carrier.

They must not be at full cruising elevation, because he could hear more birdcalls, though none passed by where he could see them. The rich colors of twilight were fading from the sky, and tears wet his cheeks at the beauty of it. He sat and watched the sky until it was completely dark, sprinkled with glistening stars. He gave silent thanks for the gift he'd been given, then with a laugh he half-tumbled, half-flew down to the deck below. When he lay down in his bed again, his sleep was deep and his dreams were scarcely troubled.

He woke up early, feeling refreshed, and made himself breakfast. He dressed to join his morning work detail up above. He stepped out of his room, and jumped at the sight of a workman standing near his door.

"Fuck!" the man said as he jumped back as well. Kurt bowed to him, and headed for the freight elevator. "Wait… Hound! You're to come with us," the man said.

"I'm with the fourth cleaning detail, _mein Herr_."

"Not anymore. Aw fuck Joe, he's German… and he's blue!"

"I don't care if he's the ruddy devil hisself…" Joe came into view, and goggled at Kurt, who stood respectfully still. Joe swallowed hard, and continued. "…he's a warm body, and we're always undermanned in the garbage room. C'mon, you."

The other end of the hall opened up into a large bay filled with bins and plastic bags. The smell of rot was partly countered by the breeze coming in the wide-open bay doors where flying trawls hauled off the detritus of life aboard the carrier.

Joe took Kurt to a large pile of loose garbage. "We recycle everything we can. Burnables go to the furnace room. Also, sort out the glass, plastic, and metals, and do it by color of glass and type of metals. The bins are clearly labeled… you can read English can't you?"

"_Jawohl_, sir."

A careless wave dismissed the title. "Just Joe. Useless stuff and general garbage we have to pay to get taken away, so sort as good as you can, okay? You do that until 11:30, then you kick off until your training session at one o'clock. Got all that?"

"Yes… ah, Joe."

Hours later, his fur was matted with various unidentified sticky substances. He'd done his sorting to the best of his ability and reported to Joe for his work chip. Joe gave it to him cheerfully. "You did good work out there, Hound. I think this is going to work out."

Kurt looked around at the not-quite-useless treasures scattered around the man's working space. "Ah, _mein Herr_?" he said softly.

"What is it?" Joe frowned at him.

"Does anyone want that?" He pointed at a box containing a turntable with a broken arm, and stack of old records.

"Naw, help yourself, just some more poundage we don't have to pay to get rid of." Joe gave him the box, some more records, the armature off another record player, and a battered toolbox that didn't close properly. "Anything else you can use?"

"Perhaps, some extra blankets?"

"Sure, I got some over here…"


	4. Kitty - A Social Gathering for Freaks

Kitty lay in her bunk, waiting for the day to begin. Deerfield High had been heaven compared to here. Without question, she was the youngest, shortest, and smallest female Hound. Half of the women in her dorm towered over her, and the other half looked like they could break her in half. Two had made passes at her, and laughed when she cringed away.

Her trainers worked her every day, and soon made it clear that the only result of her phasing out of the Carrier would be to die. She 'hovered' when she phased… weightless, suspended. It took an effort of will, like miming the act of walking down stairs to descend to a lower level. At thousands of feet of elevation, that was an awful lot of 'stairs' to walk down.

They took her collar off as a lesson, and made her stay phased as long as she could; screaming at her to keep going until she simply couldn't anymore. Twenty minutes. They let her do the math. In twenty minutes she could barely cover a quarter of the distance to the ground.

Soon, they told her, they would take off her collar during her training. They would help her use her mutant power to its potential and make her into a weapon for Shield. There were books in her locker. Anatomy books that showed the circulatory and nervous systems throughout the body. Diagrams of the most vulnerable organs and where best to strike in order to stun, maim, or kill.

Her workouts of late included pop quizzes on the anatomy material, with punishing extra exercises if she answered wrongly, and early showers if she got it right. It made her sick to her stomach to learn the stuff, but she learned it.

The morning buzzer went off, and the Hounds stirred. After breakfast, they formed up in teams, each to their own work squad. Kitty was on the second laundry detail. They washed endless loads of gray jumpsuits and Shield uniforms. They did a different type of cleaning with the training suits. It was a chemical spray and rinse, then oiling and treating the leather material of the outfits.

Laundry duty got her to lunch, and then she reported to her trainers. She wasn't proving very apt at the martial arts they were giving her. She found herself flat on her back on the floor, with the trainer shouting at her to list all the ways he could be disabled even from her posture below him. She struggled through as many as she could remember before he let her up.

"You simply aren't taking this seriously enough, Hound," he said with a disgusted tone. She cringed under his disapproval. "You know what will happen…"

'I die at their whim,' whispered through her brain. "Yessir," she said.

He frowned at her, "I'll just have to think of a better motivation for you." She didn't like the smile that came over his face. "A much better motivator." He turned to his table, and grabbed a drink bottle. "You're done, Hound. Go shower and get ready for the Social. Now, that oughta be educational for you." The chuckle he gave after his drink chilled her.

The Social. She didn't know what to think about it. The others said it was a chance to meet the guy Hounds and have a little fun. She could understand that. It was a way to blow off steam from a high-pressure existence. A Hound worked and trained for a total of ten hours a day, five days a week, with double work shifts on the weekends, with no more and no less than life itself as reward. There were no holidays, no vacations, and only a chance for a semi-supervised night off once a month.

So why did she get so nervous about the way they talked about it? She brushed her cropped hair as the women prepared to go. The comments flying around made her suddenly aware that it was going to be an adult party. Very adult.

"Coming, Kitty?" said her bunkmate.

"Umm," Kitty said. "Uh, no. I think I'll just stay here. And read."

"Not an option," the guard said. He gave her a red card. "This says your trainer orders you to attend. Get in line with the others."

"Yes, sir." She formed up with the others, and walked with them to the Social Hall, at least that's what they called it. In reality it was a large, dimly lit rec room lined with curtained alcoves. A long table held some luxury food items a cut or two above the slop they served in the dining rooms. A shorter table held a couple of kegs of beer, and some bottles of wine. Thumping dance music played from the stereo.

From the first meeting of the two groups of Hounds, Kitty got an eyeful of the lewdest, most blatant sexual behavior she'd ever been exposed to. Some of the women had their suits opened to the navels with no brassieres. Men had the top of their suits hanging from their hips, exposing hairy chests.

She was absolutely scarlet from embarrassment. She wanted to run, but she was stuck here for the duration. One of the bigger males caught sight of her and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her to the middle of the room.

"Looky here, boys… the bitches have brought them a cute little girl puppy this time. So, how old are ya girly, twelve?"

"I'm fourteen," she said, pulling futilely at his grasp.

"That old, huh? Heh. I didn't think you ladies could have any litters."

Karla, her bunkmate, marched up on the man. "You know she's not one of ours, Brad[*], we only wish. But if you don't let her go, I swear you won't get any tonight. She's a Hound, just like all of us, so treat her like one."

He let her go, and laughed. "Don't worry, girly, the night is young yet. One of us'll prob'ly get drunk enough to give your skinny little ass a try a little later." He grabbed Karla around the waist and stumped off with her in a rough dance.

Mortified beyond words, Kitty retreated to the snack table, picking up a plate and piling some tidbits onto it. She sat against the wall, and turned away from the sight of a Hound pinning one of the women to the wall and having sex with her right there in the room. The woman wasn't struggling, and she sounded like she was enjoying it. "Get a room," someone finally said, and they stumbled into one of the alcoves, whose purpose Kitty only now understood.

Only her collar and the red card kept her in the room. She began to study the items on her plate, wondering how long she could make them last when someone came up to her.

"Kitty," said her bunkmate. She looked up at Karla. "Look, we have a rule here that no one is turned away. We're all in this together, see?" Kitty nodded. "Well, there's a guy here who's hard to fix up. So, I'm assigning you, as junior-most lady Hound, to be his company."

Kitty shook her head frantically, and Karla frowned.

"I'm not giving you a choice, ok? Besides…" and her strong features softened considerably, "he's very nice."

She looked where Karla pointed, and she saw a slender form at the entrance of the Hall. At first glance she thought he was pitch black, until he turned his head and blue highlights shimmered through his wavy hair, and over his narrow features. There was something strange about his feet, and his hands were shoved into his pockets. Something thin and dark twitched behind him. A tail?

"He's got a tail!" she squeaked. She looked up at Karla in shock.

"Yeah, he's got a tail," Karla said. "But like I said, he's nice. So go on."

Kitty got up stiffly, and walked over the fidgeting male. He seemed as nervous as she felt, and a jolt of fear went through her as he lifted his eyes to hers. They were a solid golden yellow, and gleamed softly in the dimness. She swallowed hard, and kept walking. Surely, he couldn't get any stranger…

…Surely he could. His ears swept upward in a delicate arch to a sharp point. His skin… his skin was only a few shades lighter than his dark blue hair. At closer range it looked fuzzy. All over fuzzy. It was hard for her to read expressions on his scarred face, but he looked very serious, and maybe a little sad.

She stood in front of him, and shifted her weight from foot to foot. She offered him the plate of snacks still clutched in her hand.

"_Dankeshön, Fräulein_." He gave a little bow, his accent soft and lilting. The weird hand that reached out for the plate made her gasp, and take a step backward. The golden eyes closed, and this time she had no trouble seeing the pain that passed over his face.

"I… I'm sorry," she said. "We're all Hounds, right?" She stepped closer and put the plate in his hand. It closed lightly on it, but he just stood there holding it. What she'd first taken to be some kind of crablike pincer was revealed to be a pair of extra thick fingers matched with an equally broad thumb.

"Are you okay?" He opened his bright eyes again, and looked into hers. She couldn't meet his gaze, and her eyes dropped. He was barefoot, and his long feet sported two wide front toes, with thick horny nails. Each heel had an extra toe pointed backwards, bent up tight against the foot, as if they weren't comfortable on a flat surface.

The tail was curling spirals around his right ankle, holding it in a strangulation grip. With another visceral jolt of strangeness, she saw the tail end bore the classic devil's point… just like in all the drawings of Satan.

It was the last detail that shattered the spell of fear inside her. She tried to stifle a chuckle. It was just beyond ridiculous, all of it. He couldn't have been designed to be anymore frightening if someone had _tried_. Her shoulders shook with reaction and suppressed mirth.

His shoulders hunched and his eyes narrowed. "You find something amusing, _ja_?" His voice was still soft, but there was a hint of a dangerous rumble under the German accent.

She held out her hands in a warding gesture. "It's just… Oh God, it's like… Someone was playing some kind of sick joke, and you… you got the brunt of it." She met his eyes this time, pleading silently for him to understand, while still trying to control her laughter.

His posture slowly uncoiled, and his tail loosened. He let out a long breath. Giving her a small smile, he put his free hand on his breast. "Oh, _ja_. Am I not the living pinnacle of Mother Nature's sense of humor?" He gave her another bow; deep, graceful, courtly, with hand and tail flourishes. He made quite a production of it, and she curtseyed in reply.

He lifted his eyes again. "Actually, I'm used to being the brunt of the joke, and it's nice to find someone who can appreciate the jest."

The self-deprecating smile on his lips tore at her heart. This strange man… no, this boy, because he couldn't be much older than she was, bore so much pain inside him.

He took a piece of cheese from the plate, and ate it neatly. The sight of his fangs barely registered with Kitty, except she noticed they were cleanly white and sharp. It was just another perfect detail taken from the 'scare the hell out of people' design book. She thought she'd probably be more surprised if his teeth were like hers.

"My name is Kitty," she said. She took a slice of fruit from the plate. She wanted to sit down, but she didn't want to get any closer to the revelers within the room.

"_Ach_, where are my manners?" he muttered. "I am Kurt Wag… I'm Kurt."

"No, you're not," she said with a smile.

"_Was_… Pardon?" His dark brows furled in confusion. "That is my name."

"You haven't been rude to me," she insisted, nearly giggling again. The more expressions she saw on his face, the easier it was to understand them.

He stared at her, baffled and completely forgetting to be self-conscious. His eyes flashed suddenly, and his mouth widened into a real smile. He pointed at her with a big finger. "You're making a pun," he accused. "That's not fair, Kätzchen, English is not my first language. That would be like my making puns in German about your name." Did his cheeks just color?

"_'Kätzchen'_?" she asked

"It means kitten," he explained. "Would you rather I used Kitty?"

"No, Kätzchen is fine." She looked briefly into the room and flinched at a gust of drunken laughter. "I wish we could go somewhere else." He nodded, the look of distaste on his face mirroring her own.

"Let's try." He took her hand and pulled her to the guard. Fuzz that she'd thought might be bristly or stiff turned out to be soft velvet to the touch. "Can we go somewhere else?" he asked.

"Got red cards?" the guard said. They both pulled out a red card. "Well, you can't go back to your dorms with those until curfew. You going together?"

"Yes," he said, and this time she knew she saw the purple on his cheeks.

"It's allowed, just don't go anywhere restricted. Understand?"

"_Ja_, thank you." He motioned for her to follow him and he led her through the hallways.

"Where are we going," she said, rushing to keep up.

"Someplace quiet and out of the way. My quarters."

"You have separate quarters?" _How did he rate that?_

"They," he hooked a heavy thumb back over his shoulder as they entered an elevator, "… kept confusing me with the exercise equipment. Specifically, with the punching bags."

"Oh," she said. They left the elevator into another hallway. He opened a door, and gestured for her to precede him.

She hesitated for a moment, flushing. Was she really going into a boy's private rooms without a chaperone? He looked at her blush, and bowed his head.

"I promise to be a gentleman, Kätzchen."

She smiled a little and shrugged. "It's not like we didn't see enough stuff at the Social." She stepped into the small but clean kitchen. A hallway to the left ended in a hanging cloth, to the right a bar opened onto a living room furnished in _Early Rummage Sale_.

He got some juice out of his fridge, and put it on the table. He added a Tupperware bowl of lunchmeats next to the plate of cheeses from the party. A bag of apples was the final offering. He took out some dishes and helped her into one of the miss-matched chairs, then sat in the other.

He poured them each a glass of juice, and then made a thick meat and cheese roll. He put an apple on his plate, and cocked his head at her. "Not hungry?"

She took an apple. "Do you have any meat without pork?" She couldn't always avoid it here, but she tried. He offered her some beef bologna, and she nibbled on a piece as she watched him clean his plate, and a second apple, as well.

"So, what kind of jokes could you make in German from my name?"

He paused while pouring himself another glass of juice. He colored faintly, and finished pouring. "Ah, well, even in English, I believe there are… other meanings for some of the words for 'cat'." [**]

"Ah," she said, coloring herself. Time to change the subject. "How can you eat like that? Dinner wasn't that long ago."

"I have a high metabolism, and lots of activity means I need lots of fuel. Are you done with the lunchmeat?" he asked, standing.

She nodded, and he laid out a few more apples, and then opened the fridge with his tail. Picking up the bowl and apple bag, he put them away, letting his tail swing the door closed again. He saw her looking at it, and smiled. "Yes, it does come in handy at times."

He sat down, and his yellow eyes watched her finish her apple over the rim of his glass. She made a neat core of it, and put it down on her plate. His face was so serious again. Now what?

He put his glass down with great care, and stood. He took a deep breath, and held out his strange hand to her. "Will you dance with me, Kätzchen?" he asked softly.

"Dance? Here?" She blinked at him.

His head inclined to the living room. "In there, actually." His voice sounded strained and his hand started to tremble. She took it in hers, rubbing her thumb over the velvet on the back of his hand.

"Alright." She started to push back from the table, and he hastened to pull out her chair.

He led her to the next room and moved a large empty wiring spool out of the way. He turned to a shelf, and started pulling records out of their sleeves, stacking them up on the top of the record spindle. The arm on the player was a different color than the rest of the unit, but as the first disk started spinning, the arm obediently moved over and set down the needle.

A hiss, and a hum, and music began playing. It was a fast and sprightly Big Band song, with lots of brass and strings. He held out his hand again, and she took it without hesitation. They began to move with the music.

He was so graceful, she felt awkward. Her Dad had taught her the basics of dancing, but she was nowhere near as good as Kurt.

They danced with one hand clasped together, swiveling in time. "Relax," he murmured. "Don't be so tense." He tugged on her hand, and spun her close to him and let her spiral away until they were at arms' length. Then he gently pulled her back again.

His eyes were positively gleaming, and the look on his face could only be happiness. She smiled at him, and he grinned back at her, his bright teeth shining in contrast against his dark, scarred face.

The record finished, and they stopped, catching their breath. The arm lifted and moved to the side, and the next album shivered down the spindle to the platter. The needle found the new groove, and soft smoky jazz started playing, the rhythm as definite as before, but slower.

Slowly, he pulled her closer, until their forearms were touching. His other hand moved lightly to her waist, and she laid hers on his shoulder. They turned, and turned again, body's close, but not quite touching.

She looked up at him. His eyes were half closed, and his features were dreamy, lost in the moment. It looked like a good idea. Something this nice couldn't last. She pressed closer, and leaned her cheek on his shoulder. He was a little taller than she was, and it was a comfortable place to rest her head.

He gasped, stiffening, but she didn't react, or pull away. She just kept following the lead of his feet, leaning into him lightly. He relaxed, and his lower hand moved around to her lower back. She felt his tail follow the movement of his hand, and loosely wrap around her back and then his. He leaned his cheek down against her hair.

She sighed and accepted the warmth of his embrace, giving herself up to the music.

[*] In any of my fics, if a character is named 'Brad', it is safe to assume he is most well and truly an *asshole*. (/_Rocky Horror Picture Show_)

[**] There really is such a word… Jogurt of the website _Nightscrawlers_ told it to me, but I don't find a good place to work it in until much later in the story.


	5. Kurt - Tripping the Light Fantastic

[AN: Yes, I know some of this overlaps the events of the previous chapter, this is intentional… to show events from the other point of view.]

Kurt wasn't going to go to the Social. It had been nice to talk to Karla, but a single begrudged hour of someone's time wasn't worth the aggravation, at least not this month. His trainer had other plans, apparently. When he had his dinner that Friday, Combs dropped a red card on his tray.

"You spend too much damned time alone, Hound. Live a little."

He nodded, his face unhappy, as Combs walked away. He went to his quarters and changed to a new jumpsuit, then walked to the Social. He stood at the door and looked within. It was as bad as it was last time, all lewd conversations and lewder behavior.

He caught Karla's eyes as she danced with some big bruiser. She was with Brad, one his former 'playmates'. She shook her head slightly, but held up a finger to him, and mouthed, 'wait'. When the song ended she peeled Brad's hands off her, and walked purposely to the dark corner of the room.

"Hey, altar-boy," Brad called. "Come to get laid?" He laughed loudly at his own joke. Kurt ignored him and waited for Karla to return. When he saw her again, she pointed at a small form moving in his direction, before giving her attention back to Brad. Obviously she'd set him up with someone else.

The girl-Hound was very young, without her full growth. She still wore her collar, which meant her power was either very dangerous or she was a recent acquisition. Her short-clipped brown hair tended to support the latter idea. Under the tattoo, her face was innocent and frightened.

Her brown eyes got bigger and bigger as she neared him. She was taking in his appearance, and seemed to physically flinch every time she noticed another one of his 'little oddities'. She fidgeted in front of him, looking like she was about to cry. This was not what he needed today.

She offered him a plate of snacks, but when he thanked her and reached for it, she gasped and took a step back. Kurt closed his eyes tightly. He couldn't believe how much her reaction hurt him.

"I… I'm sorry," she said, her American Midwest accent sounding contrite. "We're all Hounds, right?" He felt her gently put the plate into his hand. He tried to pull himself back together, and master the pain.

"Are you okay?" she insisted. He met her eyes, and she looked away, down at his feet and nervous tail, her eyes widening again in surprise. She blinked, her eyes draining of all expression, and something changed in her eyes. She gave a little shake of her head, and started laughing silently.

Sudden rage bloomed inside him. He nearly shook with it as he crouched, ready to fight. First she'd hurt him with her fear, and now she was mocking him? "You find something amusing, _ja_?" he growled.

She raised her hands in defense and apology. "It's just… Oh God, it's like…" The laughter spilled into her voice as she struggled to explain. "Someone, was playing some kind of sick joke, and you… you got the brunt of it." Sparkling brown eyes met his deliberately, holding his golden gaze, and trying to convey something that she couldn't put into words. She put her hands over her mouth and quivered.

Her words began to penetrate the pulse of his anger. She couldn't be looking at him that way if she was making fun of him. There was no trace of cruelty in her eyes. But, what was she trying to say? Then the sense of it filtered through his defensiveness at last, and his tension began to melt away. _Gott_, as if he hadn't had that same thought more times than he could count…

But… where had that anger come from? This place had gotten to him more than he'd thought.

He sighed, and smiled to show he understood. "Oh, _ja_. Am I not the living pinnacle of Mother Nature's sense of humor?" He gave her a grand bow to honor her for her insight, and she curtseyed back. "Actually, I'm used to being the brunt of the joke, and it's nice to find someone else who can appreciate the jest." He couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice, or his smile.

A new expression came over her face, one that sobered her. He couldn't tell if it was compassion or just pity, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He took a slice of cheese from the plate she'd given him. The conversation had gotten far too personal.

"My name is Kitty." She ate a piece of fruit, and looked around. Whatever she was looking for, it wasn't in the Social Hall, because she edged away from the room and all it contained.

"_Ach_, where are my manners?" She must think he was a cad. "I am Kurt Wag…" He cut himself off. Last names meant nothing here. "I'm Kurt." Only among each other did the Hounds have even that much identity.

There was a glint in her eyes, and she smiled. "No, you're not."

"_Was_… pardon?" He blinked, puzzled. "That is my name."

"You haven't been rude to me."

What was she talking about? He'd lost track of the conversation somewhere. He hadn't been rude? He wasn't Kurt? Wait… she meant that he was not CURT! He smiled broadly and pointed at her. "You're making a pun! That's not fair Kätzchen, English is not my first language. That would be like my making puns in German about your name." He thought he could like her. She was clever, funny… and cute.

She tilted her head, confused by him in turn. "_'Kätzchen'_?"

He made a broad petting gesture in the air. "It means kitten." He'd called her that without thinking when he'd gotten her joke. Maybe she didn't like it. "Would you rather I used Kitty?"

She smiled. "No, Kätzchen is fine." She frowned cautiously into the room, and murmured, "I wish we could go somewhere else."

He could agree with that, he certainly didn't want to join the others. And, she had said 'we', hadn't she? He realized with wonder that she had. He wished he could take her to his rooms…

"Let's try." His hand not holding the plate reached for hers, and he led her to the guard at the Hall's entrance. "Can we go somewhere else?"

"Got red cards?" They both did. "Well, you can't go back to your dorms until curfew with those." _No kidding, dummkopf._ As if he wanted to get anywhere near the men's dorm, anyway.

"You going together?" the guard said, with a slight emphasis on the final word.

"Yes," he said, flushing from the shame of the man's prying. When the guard okayed the excursion, he could scarcely believe it. "_Ja_, thank you," he said, wanting to be gone before anyone could say otherwise.

He wanted to return to his refuge with her, away from all the filthy minds that surrounding them. _Mein Gott_, was it so much to ask?

She gamely stayed with him, but asked, "Where are we going?"

"Someplace quiet and out of the way. My quarters." He thought she might object to the impropriety of it, but she didn't.

After a pause she said, "You have separate quarters?"

"They kept confusing me with the exercise equipment," he said, indicating the way back behind them. "Specifically with the punching bags." He grimaced a little, remembering the smothering fear, blankets held over his head, too much weight on him, and the battering pain.

"Oh," was her only answer. He stopped at his door and threw it open, then stepped back for the lady to enter first. She just stood there, only now starting to blush about the situation. Once again, he could see how very young she was.

"I promise to be a gentleman, Kätzchen." He bowed slightly.

She tried to shrug off her fear. "It's not like we didn't see enough stuff at the Social." She walked in, looked left and then right, and then waited for his lead.

He put the plate on his rickety table. Perhaps he should make a snack first, to make her more comfortable. From the fridge he got juice, meat and apples. His mother had made meals like this, back home. He helped her to sit, and poured them both a glass juice. He put some of the party cheese into a meat roll, added an apple, and he was all set.

He picked up the roll, and saw she was just watching him, bemused. "Not hungry?" he asked. He was. He always got hungry when he was nervous.

She picked up an apple. "Do you have anything without pork?" He thought about it, and offered her some bologna. She took a slice and took dainty bites, while he fed his hunger.

"So what kind of jokes could you make in German from my name?" she said after he polished off a second apple.

He stalled, while pouring another glass of juice, blushing. "Ah, well, even in English, I believe there are… other meanings for some of the words for 'cat'." She blushed, too.

"How can you eat like that? Dinner wasn't that long ago."

"I have a high metabolism," especially when he was nervous. "…and lots of activity means I need lots of fuel." True, every word of it. It was just not the whole truth. Well, she didn't look very hungry. "Are you done with the lunchmeat?" He stood and when she nodded, he placed a few apples on the table for later, and put the food away with dispatch, and the help of his tail.

She stared at his appendage as it did the work of a hand. He smiled. He was so used to it he sometimes forgot how amazing it was. "Yes, it does come in handy at times," he said as he sat.

It also betrayed his feelings. He kept it fully behind him as he sipped his juice, watching her eat her apple. It lashed back and forth jerkily, acting out the fidgeting he was otherwise suppressing.

He had an opportunity here, but he didn't know if he should try for it. He wanted to do more than talk, and he had repaired the turntable. His tail tried to curl up in knots in sympathy with the actions of his stomach, and he stopped it with a snap to get out the kinks. Some of his tension must have showed on his face, because she was looking at him questioningly.

No time like the present. He stood, and extended his had to her. Softly he said, "Will you dance with me, Kätzchen?" He steeled himself for disgust, anger, or if he was lucky, perhaps her polite refusal. But at least he'd had the courage to ask.

"Dance? Here?" She wasn't turning him down, yet. She just… looked confused.

What? Oh, she meant in the kitchen. He nodded over to the main room. "In there, actually." His courage was just about drained out, and it was starting to show in the quiver in his voice, and the shaking of his hand. She reached out to him, and bestowed a caress on his hand.

"Alright." She started to stand, and he leaped to attend, pulling out her chair. He took her to the main room, checking to see that the blankets that covered his makeshift back door were tightly closed. The between space could be drafty at times.

The spool he used as a table was in the way, so he moved it. Then he crouched by his turntable, piling up several records he'd thought might be good to dance to.

The record started, a solid mainstream dance band, and once again, he reached out for her touch. She smiled and held his hand without any hesitation, and started to dance.

He felt awkward with her. The feelings that flashed through his heart and his body as they moved together, hands lightly clasped, were beyond his ability to analyze. He was responding to her, aroused by her proximity, and yet he could only see innocent enjoyment in her eyes. He tried to remember his promise.

He'd seen better dancers, but she knew some moves. Mostly she was having a hard time following his lead. "Relax, don't be so tense." He spun her about, so her back touched his chest, and then away so they faced each other from the full length of their arms.

They both stepped in, to the normal position. She smiled brightly, and he beamed back, not caring that his fangs showed. The record ended, and a jazz album started up, playing slow dance music.

He pulled her closer, giving her time to refuse the suggestion. He held her waist, and she put her hand on his shoulder. In a way, this was more exciting than the fast dancing they'd done. She was closer to him, and he thought she was beginning to notice their closeness at last.

He slipped his mind out of gear, and danced on instinct. Sometime, probably soon, the nightmare that was their reality would assert itself again. But, until then he just wanted to be here, to be with her, to be doing this, with nothing else mattering at all.

Softness pressed close to him, her chest against his, her face nestled into his neck. Oh, _Gott_, did she know what she was doing, and what she was doing to him? He tensed, ready for her to realize her mistake… but she only snuggled closer.

She had to know who she was doing this with. Her forehead was touching the side of his neck; her breath tickled the fur at the hollow of his throat. It was no mistake.

He slid his hands around her to the small of her back, and his tail followed his embrace, holding them together. He leaned his lips down to the softness of her hair, and tried to ignore the throbbing of his erection. They were close, but they weren't plastered together, so maybe she wouldn't notice.

She leaned her head back so she could see his face. Her tattooed cheeks bore a rosy flush that he knew was equaled only by his own. Oh, she'd noticed. He shrugged, and lowered his gaze. She would probably turn away from him, now.

She shifted a little, rubbing her face against the fur of his neck. They moved as if they were one being, bound together by hands and tail, by their leaning weight, and by the jazz.

A distant age later, the album side ended, replaced by another fast record. By unspoken accord they stopped, still standing close for a sweet moment. Then they pulled away, looking into each other's eyes.

"I would like some water," he said huskily. "Would you, also?"

"Yes, please," she said, following him into the kitchen. She leaned on the counter as he put ice into glasses, and poured water into them.

He was thirsty, and the water cooled the heat that flushed through him. She laid the sweating glass against her forehead, and shivered before she drank. Maybe he wasn't the only one feeling the heat.

The Big Band music played on in the next room, but they were more interested in their water, and each other at the moment.

"Is it only that we are very lonely, and alone?" he wondered.

"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe we see in each other a decent person. One that we would have liked, had we met when we were free."

He turned to face away from her, his mouth thinning. "If we had met before, _mein Fräulein_, you would have run screaming away from me, for I have always looked like this. Isn't that true?"

He heard her glass placed on the counter, and then her hands snaked around his slender waist and crossed over his chest, pulling him close to her. "It's true. I was shallow, sheltered, and spoiled; an academic overachiever and a Jewish American princess. And I would have run screaming from the nicest guy I have met in my whole life. I was just stupid that way."

She was soft and warm against him. His tailed circled around one of her legs. "You are Jewish?"

"Yeah. The only thing worse than being a mutant, is being a Jew and a mutant."

"I don't mind. I am Catholic, but my Lord is Jewish." He turned within her grasp to face her, putting his forearms on her shoulders. "We have some time yet. I would like to dance some more."

She smiled. "Me, too," and she pulled him back to the record player. The next album started before long, a compilation of the Andrew's Sisters. The boogie-woogie war tunes were fast and fun, and the ballads were soulful.

The two relaxed to the music, keeping a little tension between them, to fight the desire to melt into each other again. They weren't sure where that desire would take them, but they weren't ready to go there. At least, not yet.

The stack of records finished playing, and they slouched on his battered couch in companionable silence. The ship's intercom activated, and a stern voice announced, "Fifteen minutes to Curfew."

She sat up. "I don't know my way back."

"I do, I'll take you." He walked into the kitchen with her, and tossed her an apple. "For later."

"Can I have another? For my bunkmate Karla?"

He smiled and handed her another one. "For Karla. Tell her… tell her I said thank you."

"I will." He led out of the depths, and through the halls until she said, "Okay, thanks."

He turned to her, eyes gleaming under his tousled hair. He snapped his heels smartly together, and reached for her hand. She let him take it, and he brought it up to his lips, and kissed it in a courtly manner. "Thank you for tonight, Kätzchen."

She blushed again, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, for the dancing, Kurt."

He watched her hurry away. Two _bamfs_ and some four-footed running later, he got to his room just before the five-minute warning. He nodded to the security guards he surprised as he slipped into his room. They secured his door for the night.

He went to bed that night remembering the feel and the smell of her, and of her kiss on his face.


	6. Kitty - The Assassin, Shadowcat

Kitty was almost cheerful through the works shifts of the weekend. Life here was still hellish, but it seemed a little more bearable now. At her next training session, she was called to the table right after she recited the litany. "Sir? Ma'am?" She tugged at the sleeves of her newly issued leather uniform.

"You may have noticed your new outfit," Agent Howards said. She nodded. "You are now going to be introduced to your weapons." He gestured to the table where a wide array of blades was laid out. "These little ones are straight shurikens, a sort of small throwing knife. They go in the row of slots down both your arms and legs. Put them on." She began putting the sharp metal strips into their slots, side by side, marching down her limbs. She could feel weight they added to her.

"The larger blades are also for throwing, they have a greater heft, and therefore greater impact. Your suit has sheaths for them, here," he directed her hand to openings at her upper back, three on either side of her neck. "And here," at her low back were more openings, three to each side. "And lastly, on your outer thighs, two to the front and two to the back of each. Equip them."

She blew out her breath when she put the last of them in. He smiled without humor. "Heavy, aren't they? All your trainings from now on, after your oath, will start with you putting on these blades, and you'll do your workouts including their weight. The last four are your hand fighting knives. About half-way between a dirk and a dagger, you'll carry them in your boot sheaths, and in these." He and Agent Vaile took her wrists and strapped on them a bracer / sheath combo meant to hold the daggers ready to hand.

He gave her two of the big blades, and she put them into the sheaths built into the outside her boots. She stamped her feet, trying to get used to them, and felt the extra metal all over her body. "Here's how you put them into your wrists devices. Press the hilt like so, into the catches, until you hear the click. They're locked in place now. Push on that spot to release them. You'll be practicing with them, a lot."

He put on the same sort of bracers, and filled them with daggers. "Alright. Now, here's the real trick to these. Dangle your hands at your sides, and shake your wrists back and forth fast, like this. He shook his wrists, and the hilts of the blades shot down into his hands. "You gotta be fast to catch them…" She tried to imitate his movements... Clatter. "…before they fall on the floor," he finished.

Oops. She braced herself for his displeasure, but he only sighed. "Pick them up. When I tell you too, you'll do that until you can catch them reliably, and I'll decide when that is. One last change to your training." He took off her collar. "Your sessions will now include you power. Perform well, and you will be allowed to leave it off. I believe you saw some Hounds at the Social without them?" She flushed, and nodded. "Well, that's something to strive for, then."

Briefs and boxers and bras. Black uniform pants and dirty socks. Gray jumpsuits and leather cat suits. It all came through the laundry room. Working here was unpleasant, but only mildly so. At least she liked the company.

"How's your training coming along. Getting any better at the target practice?" Okay, so she could do without talking about her training, but Karla was only trying to be nice. She guessed.

"Yeah, I am." Kitty took a dripping load of clothes and stuffed it into a dryer. "9 times out of 10 I can hit the target right in the crotch. Even Agent Howards is impressed, and that takes some doing. I still don't know if I like having all those knives on me, but it's not like it's my idea."

"There's my girl. I'll bet it makes him nervous." Karla was sorting through laundry sacks, pulling out some of the contents to get an idea of which load they belonged in. She snickered. "Here, you deal with this one," as she tossed a bag to her.

Kitty frowned at her, and pulled out the contents. The jumpsuits said it belonged to a Hound, and the boxers said it was a guy, although a slender one. Then she spotted the tail hole opposite the fly. "Kurt…"

"Since you haven't been able to stop talking about him, you can do his laundry." Karla grinned. "And maybe, you'll find some evidence in there that he's been thinking about you, if you know what I mean." She winked and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Karla! You're awful." Kitty threw a towel at her.

"Hey, I just talked to the guy for a while. You're the one who slow danced with him. So, did he use his tail?"

"Only to hold us together." Kitty's eyes got far away, as she went through the rest of the bag. Ugh. The legs of some of his jumpsuits reeked. What had he been walking in? She threw those into the 'heavily soiled' load.

"Do tell? How close?" Karla smiled.

"Hey, I don't ask about you and Brad." Karla took a deep breath as if to tell her all about it… "And I don't wanna know!"

"Coward."

"You bet!"

"I belong to Shield. They own my very breath. I live at their whim, I die at their whim. I will serve in whatever I am commanded." She got up and loaded her suit with blades. She was getting used to them. Their weight and their feel didn't hinder her as much as they used to.

She still didn't want to think about what they wanted her to become. If she was any less well adjusted, she might slit her own throat before they made her into a murderer. Too bad 'thou shalt not kill' applied to one's self.

Agent Vaile put up a target. "Use every blade, smallest to largest." Beginning with the shurikens, she peppered the dummy with spikes, running along all four limbs. The twenty throwing knives she made sure to place around the torso, in serious but not immediately vital locations.

The daggers snapped into her hands, and she reversed them and threw. Heart. Left eye. She slipped her last two blades from her boots and snapped then into place in her wristbands, because reloading in the field was something she was supposed to practice. Right eye. Throat.

She still wasn't as strong or had as much endurance as they wanted but her anatomy drills were perfect, and they had no complaints about her throwing skills and accuracy. Hand to hand was still something she struggled with. She was sent to the floor less often than before, but still too much for her trainer's liking. Then there was her power. Well, her power wasn't really under her conscious control a lot of the time.

The turning her power on and off took too long. Her active phasing endurance was about 25 minutes now, but they wanted her to be able to pulse in and out of phase. She could phase to avoid some paint balls, but then got creamed as she stopped moving to phase back in and throw knives at the auto-guns. It was still a work in progress, Agent Howards told her.

Today she'd done her warm-up calisthenics, then a few laps around the big room and some boffer sparring with Agent Vaile. A sheen of exertion was just beginning to show on her face when Agent Howards called to her. "My partner is going to put up several 'smart' targets for a timed trial or two. Watch for the lights. When a target is green it's an active target. Use your blades until the light goes red. At irregular intervals, a new target will activate, so take them out quick. If more than one target is active at a time, the motion sensors will trigger the auto-guns. So you'll have to retrieve your blades while the test is going, before a new target activates, preferably. Begin when the tone sounds."

Kitty stood ready, and her hands stroked over her blades, making sure they were all in place. Vaile set up the last of the targets, and walked to the table. The tone went off, and one of the dummies lit up with a concealed green floodlight. She stepped forward and began throwing.

She had to take them out as fast as possible, without using up all her weapons, especially the important ones. The first few went red cleanly, and she was even able to recover some of her knives in between targets. Then a new target lit up shortly after she engaged the previous one. The first set of auto-guns swiveled at her. She phased through the paint barrage, and while she returned to solidity, another target activated.

The rest of the guns turned on her, and she was splattered by a crossfire of paint. The test ended and Kitty trudged to the table where they hosed off the water based marks. Howards frowned at her. "Be more aggressive, Hound." You can't do everything you need to from a safe throwing distance. Just because you can throw the daggers doesn't mean you always should. Sometimes you get better results when you get in close to the target."

"Yes, sir."

"Recover your knives and get ready to do it again." She hurried to prepare.

Once more, she stood at the ready. Mindful of what he'd said, she stepped closer to the targets. The first one was on the far end this time, and she dodged around a couple of dummies to get good throws in. Two knives to the chest, and it flashed red. The dummy next to her flashed green, and she popped a dagger and stabbed it in the throat. Red. She had time to get her knives before the next one activated.

Using a combination of close up stabs and distance throws, she made all the targets light up red, and the guns never twitched. She turned to the table to see what their reaction was. They weren't paying attention to her; instead they were talking to someone. The new man glanced over at her and said something to them. Howards looked at the red-lit dummies and gestured her to turn around. She did, showing there was no paint on her.

He nodded. "Better. Get your blades and stand ready." She nodded in return, and readied herself again, as they walked out of the room as a group.

What was going on? A rumble behind her made her turn to the back of the room. A service door opened, and through it stepped a figure. He wore a tattered sleeveless jumpsuit, but it was work-gang orange instead of Hound gray. He was huge; over seven foot tall and about five foot wide. His skin was darkly tanned, with a pale band of flesh at his neck.

The man was a mutant. If his size alone didn't tell her that, the long horns on his head did, and the splayed cloven hooves he had for feet. Massive muscles rippled down his bare arms, and he moved easily, if heavily into the room. He caught sight of her, and stepped nearer, squinting his dark eyes.

"Oooooh," he rumbled. "Ox like. Ox like 'em nice an' young." He rubbed his crotch, and zipped his suit down until it was open to the groin. "They say Ox could play today. Wanna play, pretty?" He reached down into his suit and touched himself as he stalked toward her.

She backed up, her mind spinning in helpless circles. They wouldn't let this… this monster hurt her, would they? Well, there was all that about 'I die at their whim', but this was some kind of whim!

He slowly closed the distance between them, and she could see something dark red rearing up in front of his hairy belly. Where the hell were her trainers?

She hit a wall, and began sliding against it, still staring. As he reached the silent dummies in the middle of the room, a spot light lanced down from the ceiling and shown done on him. He was bathed in green light, and he stopped and peered upward. "Why green light?" There was no answer, so he shrugged. "It a pretty color." He looked back at her and smiled with brown and crooked teeth.

Oh God. She knew what the light was for. Ox had been given to her as a target, and if she failed… she'd get something a lot worse than a scolding from Howards. He'd been saying something about her motivation. Kitty didn't think she'd have any trouble finding her motivation today.

She kept edging around the wall, studying him, but trying not to look at what was bobbing there in front of him. It was as big around as her arm, for God's sake. It would kill her, certainly.

He bunched the muscles of his legs, and leaped twenty, thirty feet through the air, landing with a clattering thump near her. Long hairy arms reached out for her, but she ducked and phased, air-walking away, past the targets. He stood for a minute, looking to see where she'd gone, confused. Turning around he caught sight of her again.

"Pretty playin' hard ta get?" He grinned, thumbing his chest. "Used to be Bull, but then got cut. Now just Ox, but Ox can still hump the pretties, you'll see."

Unfortunately, she could see, but she was able to look beyond that now. Anatomy lessons filtered back to her. Not only did the bigger ones fall harder, but their vital areas were bigger, too. She took out three shurikens, and when he stepped closer she whizzed them at him.

Shit. His skin was thick or something. Two bounced off, one nicked him and fell away. "Ow." He looked down at the spot of blood. "Pretty wanna play rough?" His brows furrowed darkly. "Ox can play rough, too."

He scraped his feet; right, left, right, then lowered his head and charged. He snapped a target off at the base in a tackle that would have terrified a pro linebacker, and sent it spinning away. She wasn't anywhere near him for him to grab, though. She'd seen him prepare to charge and moved.

Before he turned again, she sent one of her throwing knives into his back at the kidney region. She'd meant for it to stick in to the hilt, but his hide foiled her once again, only allowing a few inches to penetrate.

He bellowed a roar of pain and rage, and charged her with frightening speed and grace. She phased through a few dummies, air-walking to the side. She thought about phasing through the floor and out of the room, but realized that she'd been given a test and a target. To leave was to fail; quite seriously this time. Perhaps fatally.

He pulled the knife out, and tossed it from him. It went pin-wheeling away, trailing splotches of blood. He smeared a crimson stained hand under his splayed nostrils, and growled. "Ox gonna fuck ya, then Ox gonna kill ya, pretty."

He started leveling the dummies, removing her cover. He was inhumanly strong and fast, and all she had was her phasing, her knowledge, and her blades. When the last of the targets were laid low, he came to her, crouching, and ready to react to any dodges.

She stepped up to him, and he blinked and grabbed at her. _Whoosh_. His big arms went right through her, and he glared in fury. Then she went solid and pushed a dagger into his side with all of her weight until it was deeply set. When he screamed she fled, running in solid form to get some distance, because air-walking was way too slow. She replaced the dagger with one from her boot, and waited.

He pulled this blade out, too; with a gout of blood that she could smell half the big room away. An analytical part of her mind wondered if he knew ripping the knives out like that was making him bleed worse. "Maybe Ox kill ya first, _then_ he fuck ya!"

He gathered and leaped, and she was ready, half phased into the floor. Just before he landed, she dove for where his backside would be, and as he thumped down to the floor, she shoved a dagger deeply into the shallow wound the throwing knife had made earlier.

_Olé_, she thought. Cut him and run. Hurt him, and then get some distance. He was starting to slow down, or at least she hoped so, panting from his wounds and the blood loss. He was fast, but he took time to build up speed. She was more maneuverable, and the phasing added an element to her ability to evade him.

In a surreal way, this _was_ a bullfight, and she was the matador. And if he actually caught her, she would be just as dead as that matador, torn under the hooves and horns of the bull.

He couldn't pull this last blade out. It was set awkwardly behind him, deeply buried. He paced towards her, still very dangerous, but leaving a trail of blood drops and splatters behind him. He readied and jumped again. She thought he was trying to close the distance to her again, so she sprinted to his launching point. But, this jump was more of a low hop, and he reached down from mid air and smacked her, sending her tumbling across the floor.

Kitty went sprawling from the impact; face and chest burning, feeling dazed and waiting for him to land on her. She forced herself to look up when he didn't. He'd landed badly, it seemed, so she got up and ran over to him. He started to turn with a snarl, and she kicked him hard in the side that was bloody, both in front and back. He gave a groan and leaned over to cough up blood.

She kicked the hilt protruding from his back, and he moaned and slumped further, retching. She snapped a dagger into her hand, and put a foot on his shoulder. She raised the blade, aiming for the base of his neck at the spine, and a red spotlight flooded them both. She hesitated, and then she raised it again, wanting only to finish him for good…

"Stop!" Howards ordered.

Her trainers and the other man were at the door. Agent Vaile grabbed her arms and pulled her away from her target. The stranger examined the big mutant. "He'll survive. He's had worse. Good thing you got that little hellcat away when you did, though, or I'd be out a worker."

Kitty started to shiver. She looked at the gore-smeared blade still clutched in her hand, and almost dropped it.

Howards said, "Teach her how to clean blood off of her blades." The woman nodded, and directed her to retrieve her blades. She did so, numbly, and Howards handed her the one she'd left in the man's back.

He smiled. "I knew I could find a good motivation for you."


	7. Kurt - Second Chances

Kurt whistled as he worked.

His suit sleeves were shoved up to his elbows while he sorted through the recyclables. Brown glass went in the left bin, green to the right, clear in the middle. He was off the main pile for now, until the boots Joe ordered for him came in. He'd sliced his heel open yesterday, and the boss figured the doing the job barefoot probably wasn't a good idea.

He finished the glass and went to the paper bundler. Stuffing the paper and cardboard products into the machine's maw, he turned it on as Joe came up to him. "So, Blue, whatcha' so happy about? Something to do with that party you had?"

"_Ja_. I met a girl, a cute one. She's nice."

"That's good. If you were mooning over a cute boy, I'd start to get worried about you, ya know?"

Yellow eyes turned to him. "That's not very funny, Joe." But he smiled as he said it.

"You two had a good time?"

"We went to my rooms and danced." Kurt closed his eyes, remembering.

"You dirty dog! Takin' a girl to your rooms…" Joe shook his hand as if cooling it.

"It wasn't like that! We just danced! With music from the record player I fixed."

"Uh huh, right. Danced." Kurt glared at him, and Joe laughed. "Kidding!" Kurt went on to his next task, but he felt Joe's eyes following him for some reason.

Combs watched him as he came in, his stance on the balls of his feet adding a few inches to his height. His left heel was lightly bandaged, but hurt enough that he employed a little used skill in order to get around. Truthfully, it was just as easy for him to walk like this as it was flat footed, but he'd learned while young that he looked more 'normal' when he kept his heels on the ground like everyone else.

"Doc says no fighting for you today. How long can you stay up like that?"

"As long as I have to." There were several technicians by the table, along with some unfamiliar gear. He looked away. Curiosity wasn't encouraged in a Hound.

"Let's start with some weight training." He threw Kurt a big bag. He caught it, his heel dipping low, but not touching the ground. "Port that across and back a few times, as quickly as you can." Kurt nodded and crossed the room and back in quick succession. _Bamf. Bamf_.

He took a single cleansing breath, and repeated the exercise. _Bamf… Bamf…_ He closed his eyes and bit his lip and ported across again. He was starting to feel faint, but he marked a point by Combs and returned. He dropped the bag beside him and leaned down on his knees, not quite panting.

"Six ports of 120 pounds in less than a minute. Not bad. Okay…go over to the techs and do what they say for the rest of the session. When they're done with you, go shower, you'll need it."

"Yes, sir." Kurt walked over to them. They put him in a chair, and he was glad of the rest. Taking tape measures, they performed a detailed set of measurements on his hands and feet, all the way up to the elbows and knees. When they finished, they had him strip to his boxers. They gave him a tub of thick grease, and told him to work it thoroughly into his fur on his lower arms and lower legs.

They put a waterproof covering over his bandage, and covered his hands and feet with the grease as well. Putting his feet in shallow tubs, they put thin strips of felt down the front and back of the greased areas. Then they coated both legs from the knee down with wet plaster, like they were in casts. His arms went into basins, and got the same treatment.

They techs never spoke to him, just at him. With "Left hand, now," and "Don't move," being typical comments. He had to sit there until the plaster dried. When it cured, they carefully parted it at the felt seams, and packed the molds away. He was told he could go clean up without a word of explanation given.

At the middle of the month, Kurt was given a set of work gloves and boots. He'd doubted they could make effective boots for him, but they had. The footwear had a wide open backpiece below the ankle, and a hinged heel connected at the sole. He stepped into it, stretching his rear toe a little uncomfortably until his foot was planted. Then he tucked the extra toe into the heel-piece and used the heavy straps to mate the heel to the rest of the boot.

The last step was the steel rod built into the sole. When he shoved it home into the socket in the raised heel, the boot was as sturdy as Joe's. It meant he had to go back to the main trash pile again, but he didn't mind with his new protection.

He had new gear in his training, too. The boots were more flexible than the ones he wore at work, because they lacked the steel rod that prevented him from curling his feet. Combs put him through acrobatic and gymnastic series to make sure they didn't hinder his movements in anyway.

The gloves were heavier than those at work, and looked like they came from one of his beloved Errol Flynn movies. The brown leather boasted rounded steel studs over the back of his hands, for fighting with. They started him punching at boards with them to toughen up his fists. The way the boards splintered and cracked as he drove the studs in was a frightening sight.

The Friday of the Social, Joe gave him a small box at the end of his shift. "Take that home, and see if you can use anything. It's just stuff I don't need, and it's no big deal, 'kay?" Once back at his quarters, Kurt opened it on his table, and nearly wept. There were matches, a half dozen short candles, and a third of a bottle of Old Spice. 'No big deal' indeed. Joe was pushing the line with this, but Kurt wouldn't tell anyone.

He put the matches on the bar, and spread the unlit candles around his main room. He took the cologne to the bathroom, to use after dinner. Right now, he needed to clean up the smell of garbage, so he could eat lunch and go to his trainers.

Agent Brestin wore a padded suit when they sparred now, and Kurt was sure the man carried bruises from the gloves, despite his protection. His porting weight was up to 130 pounds, and steadily increasing. There was a tension in his trainers, as if all their work was leading up to something, and soon.

He finished the day's activities, and was called to the table. Combs looked up at him from where he sat recording the session results. "You going to the Social, Hound?"

"Yes, sir. I was planning on it." Kurt didn't want to meet his eyes.

"Good. This isolation of yours could have… worrisome effects on your stability. It wouldn't look good for my record if I let you snap. Go hit the showers."

Kurt walked away, wondering what brought that on. Combs' concern was so NOT touching. If Kurt lost his mind, it would be a black mark on the agent's service? Well, boo hoo, sir, he thought. I'm more worried about my staying sane in this hellhole, thank you. Especially now I have someone to stay sane for…

Kurt arrived at the Social early. He wall-walked high up to a dark corner and crouched still, blending into the shadows. He wondered if Kitty would be there. He hoped so, because she was the only reason he was here. When others neared him, he hooded his eyes, looking down at them through his lashes until they moved away; never aware he was there.

Karla hooked up with someone as soon as she arrived. He smiled slightly, still grateful to her for the introduction. Brad walked in later, and seemed to be having trouble finding a dance partner. He didn't feel sorry for the man, Kurt knew that he wouldn't leave tonight without some form of comfort, but the sight of his current frustration was amusing.

A slender figure moved with slow steps to the entryway. It was her! He somersaulted off the wall, landing in an open spot among the dancers. Curses and startled looks were the acknowledgement of his sudden appearance, but he didn't care. He moved through the crowd, heading straight for her.

Just as she spotted him, Brad stepped between them. "Not so fast, fuzzy. You monopolized the girl last time." He took Kitty's arm and petted her. "How about you stick with a real man, baby? I'll show you a good time." Kurt's fangs flashed in a silent snarl… that faded as she spoke.

"Get. Your hands. Off me." Her tone was flat and expressionless, but it was the dark chill in her eyes that Kurt noticed. _Gott_, what had happened to her?

Brad purred condescendingly, "Aw, how cute…" She grabbed his little finger. "Hey! Ow… _Ow!_ Stop it!" She pulled it sharply in a direction Mother Nature never intended. He tried to pull away from her, and she kicked his knee out from under him, and stepped away before he could fall.

"Kätzchen?" Kurt said, and she looked at him, her eyes wide and empty. Gradually focus returned and she nodded to him.

"Let's just go," her tone was subdued. Something was very wrong. All the warmth and humor that had filled her was nowhere to be found.

They checked out with the guard and left for his rooms. Before they got into the elevator he stopped her, putting his hands on the wall at either side of her face. "What is wrong, Kätzchen? How can I help?"

She frowned at him slightly. "I… don't want to talk about it here. Let's… just… get there. Please?" This last was said as a whisper, with her eyes closed.

"Alright. But we need to talk, I can see that."

"Fine! I mean… I know, Kurt. I know." She blinked and turned back to him, a flicker returning to her eyes. "Is that… cologne?"

"_Ja_, Old Spice. I think it smells nice."

She sniffed at him. "Mm. It does." She sighed. "Can we get out of this hallway?"

"Of course, _Fräulein_. Right this way…" He linked his arm with hers, and led her to his quarters. When he opened the door for her, she didn't hesitate at all. She walked to his couch, and slumped in the corner. He followed her into the main room. "Are you hungry?" She shook her head. "Thirsty?"

"I wouldn't mind some juice," she said, staring off.

"Juice coming right up." He put the filled glasses on the spool and walked around lighting the candles, seeing how the flames drew her gaze. He turned down the lights and put on a soft classical record. When he was done, he sat on the middle of the couch, facing her.

"Something happened to you." He didn't make it a question.

"Yeah." Her voice was flat again, and she wouldn't look at him. "This last month they gave me knives. Lots of them. Shurikens, throwing knives, and daggers. They're all over my fighting gear. They've been teaching me to use them. On targets and things."

He nodded. "This month they gave me studded gloves for fighting." The look she gave him, of irritation and pure envy, stopped him from saying more. "Please _liebchen_, go on."

She nodded. "My trainers had been talking about my motivation. They said I wasn't taking the training seriously enough. That it was just a game to me. Well, he found a way to motivate me." She had a throw pillow gripped in her hands, and she was twisting it.

"They sent in a mutant worker. Ox. Big guy. Two foot bigger than you in every dimension. They told him he could 'play' with me and he was… ready and eager to. But the lights… they put a green light on him, and that meant I should fight him, and all I had were my knives…"

"Oh, Kätzchen…" She kept twisting the pillow, and kept talking at one of the candles.

"I was scared out of my mind. I ran, but it didn't help, so I started to fight. The little blades did nothing. The middle ones hurt him a little, but not enough. So… I got in close… and I stabbed him, deep." She covered her face with the pillow. "Oh, Kurt, the blood. It was everywhere. He just got angrier. Wanted to kill me… and do the other. So I stabbed him in the back, and buried it to the hilt."

He tried to picture Kitty doing these things, and was having trouble with it. Then he remembered the way she'd been with Brad…

"More blood. He hit me, and I thought I was dead, or worse. But he didn't… turned out the jump and the knives had gotten to him. I ran over… Kurt, I kicked him when he was down, right on his wounds.

A seam on the pillow gave out, stuffing oozing from it. She stared at it, horrified, and he pulled it from her slack grip and dropped it to the floor. He took her hands in his, and she clutched them as if they were her only lifeline.

"You were defending yourself, _liebchen_. He would have hurt you badly if you didn't stop him. You did what you had to do." A tortured grimace came over her face. He could see the hollows on her cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes. The stress she'd been living under must have been tremendous.

"But that's… not… all." She was forcing herself to speak. "When he was helpless, unable to fight back… I… tried to kill him. I wanted to kill him. They had to order me to stop, and drag me away from him. And the blood… so much blood…"

He freed his hands from hers and reached to embrace her. She flinched away from him. "No. I… don't deserve it. I just came here so I could explain to you…"

He leaned back a little, regarding her face in the candlelight. "Kätzchen. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. This place… it's like a meat grinder. It chews us up, out of all resemblance to ourselves. They grab a hold of us, and twist us with unrelenting pressure."

He picked up the torn pillow from the floor with his tail. "The unlucky ones become like this… they can't take the pressure, and they break. If they break, they are killed. The rest of us bend, adapting to the insanity of it all. It's the only way to survive here." He dropped the pillow. "They push us to our limits, five hours a day, five days a week, and that's on top of 45 hours of work. We don't choose the direction they push us in. We can only bend… or break. You didn't break." He sighed. "Let me tell you Kätzchen… last month, when you started laughing, there at the first?"

She nodded numbly, her eyes shining as she listened to him. "I thought you were laughing at me," he said. "I was already upset I'd been made to come there, and your reaction to me… hurt me more than I can say. I got angry, very angry. And afterwards, I couldn't tell where the anger had come from… except this place… does things to us. It puts things inside us, things that we wouldn't ordinarily have. It wasn't you that tried to kill him; it was what this place has made of you. You can either accept that person, and try to master the dark impulses, or you will surely break."

She turned her head away, and a tear trickled down her cheek. He reached for her again, and she hesitated. Then she surged into his embrace with desperate need. He was nearly over balanced, so he scooted them both back until he was braced in the other corner, and she could lean on him all she liked.

Apparently, she liked. She clutched at his suit, and cried on it, sniffling and sobbing like a child, while he stroked her back and her hair. He caught her rubbing her runny nose on her sleeve and offered her the handkerchief from his pocket.

She blew her nose, and then sat up a little. She reached for his zipper, and he blinked, surprised, but letting her open the suit to his waist. Her face was red and blotchy as she crooked her fingers on his chest, scraping gently into the soft fur. He shrugged off the sleeves of the suit, and pulled her back to him again, this time onto the velvet of his fur.

He let her cry until she had no more tears left. She lay on his chest with her eyes closed, free from guilt for the first time in days. He put an arm around her, and with the other he stroked her, changing from the right hand to the left and back again, but always keeping her within his embrace. He worked his blunt fingers through her hair to her scalp. He massaged her, working down to her neck and shoulders. She shuddered and gasped when his patient hands loosened her knotted and painful muscles.

He noticed that despite their closeness, he was only slightly aroused. He was far more concerned about helping her than he was aware of her soft body at the moment. He wished he could protect her from the horrors of this place, but he knew he couldn't even save himself.

He massaged her arms, taking her hands from where they were draped around his waist, and massaged them too. When he finished everywhere he could reach, her breathing and heart rate were slow and even. She gave a deep sigh into his collarbone, and flexed her fingers idly in the fur of his side, tickling him.

He snorted and jerked upright. She straightened up and snapped her eyes open, her breath coming fast, instantly tense. "Easy, Kätzchen." He smiled and kissed her forehead. "It's alright, you just tickled me." Using both hands, he worked on her neck, shoulders, and arms again, helping to her relax once more.

"Didn't mean to," she mumbled. He leaned her back on the couch, and extricated his legs from hers, standing. Dark eyes looked up at him, lost and bereft.

"I know you didn't, _liebchen_. I'll be right back." He went to the record player, and started selecting music.

"Nothing… fast, please," she said, her eyes following him closely.

"My thoughts exactly." He flashed her a grin and surprised a small smile from her. The music began playing, and he reached down and wrapped his bare arms around her waist, pulling her to her feet. He held her and pushed the spool out of the way with a foot, using his tail to keep the glasses upright.

They leaned into each other as if the month intervening never happened, melted together and moving in harmony. The feeling of this closeness had haunted his dreams, along with her sparkling eyes and easy smile. The closeness was there again, but it felt different this time. She felt fragile in his arms, as delicate as spun glass. He fought with a fierce desire to never let her go. Instead he willed his strength to flow into her, wanting, and needing her to recover from this, and heal.

Greatly daring, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. Time stopped. For an endless moment, he luxuriated in the tingling fire evoked in the chaste kiss. Then he pulled back and looked into her eyes, feeling his own pulse pounding. Her eyes were wide with astonishment, and she brought a shaky hand up to touch her lips.

"Ah… you looked like you could use that…" he said. She put her hands on his neck and drew his lips to hers again. The fire was even hotter this time, and he didn't think he could bear the flames if he opened his mouth to her.

The kiss ended and she leaned into his neck again. A change crept over her, a gradual confidence returning to her carriage and movements. "God, Kurt. Oh, thank you," she whispered against him. "You brought me back. I was lost and drifting, but you brought me back." She squeezed her arms around him hard, and he hugged her back just as fervently.

They kept moving, and now he found himself weeping, quiet tears falling onto her face. She looked up at him, concerned. "I was so worried about you, Kätzchen… If you didn't find yourself… They…"

"They would kill me. I know, but I couldn't bring myself to care."

"I would care. And Kätzchen… I would miss you, very much." He bent to nuzzle his face in against her soft neck, rubbing his face there.

"Hey! Kurt, your fur tickles!" She pushed on his shoulder, her face lit in a weak smile. He beamed at her in return.

"Well, you seem to like it. I wanted to see what it was like." He gave an eloquent little shrug.

"Well?" She stopped the pretense of dancing, standing with her hands on her hips.

He bent down, slowly, rubbing his cheek across hers, then down over her chin, and into the crook of her neck. He rubbed his nose against her and breathed in deeply. He kissed her neck, and she gasped, as his tongued tasted the pale skin. He raised his face again, considering. Running his tongue over his lips, he said, "Salty," he smiled, "…and intoxicating." She blushed deeply.

"Well, duh! I've been crying a river on you. Look at your poor chest fur." Her fingers tried to loosen the matting caused by her tears.

He caught her hands. "I'll brush it out later. Right now, I don't want to waste a moment with you."

She put her arms around him again, and leaned her forehead to his. "Thank you, for all of it. I needed that," she whispered against his mouth.

"It was my pleasure, Kätzchen."


	8. Kitty - Shelter from the Storm

Kitty was lost.

She was deep in a mist that blurred the outside world to her. It started in the shower after the test, when she worked to clean the blood from her hands. Scrubbing, with a desperation that found her digging her nails into her skin, trying to scratch it off. She went into shudders when she saw the renewed swirls of pink that dripped off her fingers and into the drain.

Vaile found her there, and got her dried and dressed, taking her to Howards. "You pushed her too hard. She's withdrawn."

Firm hands turned her face upwards, but she couldn't focus on anything. "Damn. Take her to the Psychs. We need to know how bad it is… and just when she was starting to amount to something…"

"The subject seems to be in a state of mild catatonia. She's increasing reactive to stimuli, however. I prescribe a night of isolation at the clinic, then returning her to her normal routine. We've bandaged her hands, and I don't think there will be a recurrence of the self-destructive impulses."

"Kitty… are you ok? You look lost. They said something happened… Can you talk about it? C'mon, sweety, this is Karla…"

"Hound, you need to do more working and less talking."

"Yes, sir. I was just trying to…"

"Orders are to let her do her work and to leave her alone."

"Yes, sir."

"She hasn't responded to you? My reports say that you've been the closest to her of her fellow Hounds."

"Very little ma'am… and, um, that's not quite true. There's someone else. One of the guys."

"She met someone at the Social? Who was it?"

"The blue one, ma'am. With the tail. She seemed to like him quite a bit."

"No Kidding? Well, I'll just have to make sure she attends the one tomorrow. You've been helpful, Hound."

"You're welcome…" Footsteps moved away. "…Bitch." A sigh. "It sure feels weird to talk about you like you're not even there, when you are. Oh, Kitty…"

Loud pounding music. The stench of alcohol. She felt reluctant to go any farther into the room, but she was unsure why. A man… boy… was before her. Blue, with a tail. Something stirred in her. Trust. A flicker of hope, and recognition, and despair.

Rough hands on her, a burly form blocking her view of the boy. A gravelly voice that awoke irritation from the mist. She ordered him to let her go, and he mocked her. She made him let her go.

The young man called to her, his accent soft and familiar.

Let's go, she told him. She didn't want to stay here, she wanted to be alone with him… again?

Halfway to… wherever they were going, he stopped her. Stepping in too close he spoke to her. Something clenched in her at the aggression… but the distant trust won out. He said wanted to help. Kurt. His name was Kurt. Flashing, caring eyes chipped away at the mist, threatening to expose her sins. Not now. Not yet…

That scent… It smelled so good. He smelled of safety, and love… like her father.

He led her to the private place, the place she could relax… Except she couldn't relax, because he wouldn't want her here if… when… he knew what she had done. She sat on the couch and didn't look at him. She barely sipped at the juice he brought.

Candles… Where did he get candles? …so pretty. Soft music. He sat near her, attentive, concerned. Asking what happened, without really asking.

She told him about the knives. About what they wanted her to do… what they wanted her to become.

He interrupted, saying they had given him fighting gloves… Let me finish, damnit! You they gave gloves, me they gave knives… he fell silent again, and listened.

She told him about Ox. About her fear, and the blood. About her cowardly attack, and her despicable behavior to a fallen opponent. The pillow… she couldn't seem to stop destroying things.

Self-defense, he said. But… he didn't understand… He was going to forgive her, accept her… and the blood on her hands. She had to tell him. Tell him she wanted Ox dead. That she'd made him helpless, and she was going to slaughter him like an animal. That she refused to stop until they made her.

He reached out to her, and she pulled away. Not me. I'm tainted. Damaged. Blood stained. I don't deserve you. Oh, God, no…

The chiding tone in his voice was the last thing she expected. _Stop feeling sorry for yourself?_ He brought up the pillow again. Said they twist us until we break, or bend. It made sense… his words dropping without sound into the thickness of the mist.

She didn't know that she had angered him so… Maybe he could understand. Maybe he could forgive her… For the blood. For being so weak. For not staying the way that she had been. And now she was crying, and she couldn't stop.

Then the mist was burning away under the warmth of the sun. The sun was in his golden eyes, so full of compassion. And he still wanted to embrace her, and oh God, yes! His arms felt so good around her.

She cried brokenly onto his suit. The zipper and seams dug into her face and she wanted them gone. She put her hand on his zipper, and banished a flashing image of a meaty hand pulling down the zipper of an orange suit…

She bared his chest, and he helped her, dropping the top of it off his shoulders. Then it was just Kurt against her. Warm blue fur, Old Spice, and his soothing heartbeat pulsing under her ears as she cried within the circle of his arms. He murmured softly in German as he stroked her hair. She didn't understand, but she didn't need to. His voice was simply sweet music to her.

She cried herself out, legs curled up beside him, the rest of her basically laying over his chest. As she quieted he kept one hand around her always, and with the other he massaged her, loosening pains and kinks in her body that she didn't know she had. She lay still, half dozing and listening to his quiet breathing as he worked the stiffness out of her.

She sighed contentedly, and scratched into the fur at his sides. He sat upright suddenly and she panicked, heart thudding in her chest as she stared at him. He smiled gently. "Easy Kätzchen. It's alright, you just tickled me." He kissed her forehead and put both hands on her to relax her once more.

"Didn't mean to," came an unfamiliar voice; hers. She sounded so hoarse to her ears, almost as if she were drugged. He gently settled the bulk of her weight back on the couch, and stood up. Where was he going?

"I know you didn't, liebchen. I'll be right back." Just beyond the end of the couch he started loading up the record player. He wanted to dance? She wasn't sure she could even move right now.

"Nothing… fast, please." She pleaded. She could handle slow music, probably.

"My thoughts exactly." She couldn't help but smile at brightness of his grin. He physically pulled her upright, holding her against him as he cleared space for them to dance. Then he took her hand and put his other around her waist. Her other hand didn't get as far as his shoulder; she left it lying on the soft fuzz of his chest.

She leaned against him, feeling the magic between them happen again. He felt different to her, or maybe he was feeling differently. His arousal wasn't pressed against her, but his arms held her tightly, protectively… possessively? It was nice, more than nice.

Then, nicer still were his lips on hers, thrilling her to her core and burning off the remnants of the mist that lingered inside her. His mouth was so warm and soft, she wanted it to last forever. And deep within her she knew she was waking up at last.

He pulled away from her, far too soon. She hadn't gotten nearly enough of him yet. He looked worried that she might be angry. He gave an embarrassed smile. "Ah… you looked like you could use that." She brought him back to her mouth and lingered there for a while, tasting him.

She let the kiss end and nuzzled against him again. She whispered to him softly, "God, Kurt. Oh, thank you. You brought me back. I was lost and drifting, but you brought me back." She hugged him tightly, and he returned the embrace in kind.

Warm rain fell down on her. She looked up into his tears. "I was so worried about you Kätzchen… If you didn't find yourself… They…" They both knew that a useless Hound was a dead Hound.

"They would kill me. I know, but I couldn't bring myself to care."

"I would care." A sad smile crossed his face. "And Kätzchen, I would miss you, very much." What had she done to deserve such caring?

Then he nuzzled her neck as she liked to do with him, and his fur flexed with his movements, stroking the tender flesh… and darn it, stop that!

"Hey! Kurt, your fur tickles!" She gently shoved his shoulder, a small smile on her face. His wide grin warmed her.

"Well, you seem to like it. I wanted to see what it was like."

They weren't really dancing anymore. "Well?" she challenged. All right… tell me what's it's like for you. He put his cheek to hers, and bent slowly, dragging his soft fur down her face, her chin, and down to her neck. He nuzzled there again, more carefully this time, taking in her scent. A soft kiss, then the moistness of his tongue licking her; sparking a shock through her.

When he lifted his head he looked like a connoisseur of fine wines. Thoughtfully he licked his lips, and smiled. "Salty… and intoxicating."

She blushed so hard she felt like she would burst into flames. "Well, duh!" she said, to defuse the tension within. "I've been crying a river on you. Look at your poor chest fur." She worked at the flattened fur, hoping that some of that hadn't come from her nose…

He stopped her. "I'll brush it out later. Right now I don't want to waste a minute with you."

She leaned back against him. "Thank you, for all of it. I needed that."

"It was my pleasure, Kätzchen," he replied.

A gust of air cooled her reddened face. She turned her head to see the blankets on the back of his wall flapped slightly, then settling again. "What… what is that?"

He led her to the back wall. "They built this place in between the outer hulls, at the bottom of the Carrier. It was meant for sick staff, but it was abandoned before it was finished. I tore down a section of the wall so I could get into the space between. There are many things to climb on, which I like, and a vent to the outside."

"Can I see?" she said, looking at the blankets.

"If you wish, but it's very dark, especially at night. It's even dim during the day for me." He tapped his upper cheek. "And I see well in the dark."

She pushed the blankets aside and stepped into the heavy darkness. He chuckled at her expression, and his eyes were glowing, really glowing in the dark. "I'll go get a candle for you." He was gone for less than a minute, and returned with one of the votives in a plastic bowl.

The naked flame swayed fitfully in the sporadic gusts of air. Tall support struts and heavy cables cast dark shadows that twisted around with the movement of the light. Kurt curled his feet around a cable that reached up diagonally, moving up effortlessly. She saw now what his feet were truly meant for.

"Be careful," she called nervously. Twenty feet up, the cable met a beam, and he was clinging to it, one foot still on the metal wires.

He paused to smile at her. "Ha! I was climbing like this when I was a toddler. Drove my poor mother to distraction trying to keep me safe. My love of heights is why I joined the circus trapeze troupe." He was climbing the beam vertically now. "Let me get a bearing on the midpoint, and I'll teleport you up."

He was too far away from her. She started air-walking upwards, the phasing keeping the flame from dancing. "Teleport?" she said, her voice gone spectrally hollow with the use of her power. He reached his goal, and looked down at her, the flame catching his golden eyes.

"It's my mutant power; to move from place to place instantly. And… I think I am seeing yours, _ja_?"

"Yeah, they took my collar off. What I do is phasing, moving through solid objects. She reached his level and carefully aligned her feet to the surface of the big I-beam, then went solid. "Okay… Did I ever tell you I'm sorta scared of heights? Just how high up is this?"

"Forty feet. And no, Kätzchen, I don't think it's come up before." He took the candle, and let her lean on him to keep her balance. The surface they stood on was only 12 inches wide.

"Like about you running away to join the circus?" She couldn't help but to smile.

"I didn't run away to the circus, I just traveled there from the Gypsy camp." He looked off, a melancholy expression on his face.

She snickered. "Gypsies? Now you're kidding me, right?"

He frowned at her. "I would never kid about the people who took in a little blue foundling, and raised him as part of a loving family."

She kissed his cheek to apologize for her skepticism. "I'm sorry, Kurt. In America, tales like that are the stuff of corny jokes and old clichés. Boys running away to the circus, people being raised by Gypsies, those are only found in exciting, and usually fictional, stories."

"Well, I am here to say it's not always fiction." He fingered his almost non-existent earlobe. "I could show you where I used to wear an earring, but the hole grew over. Jimmy will be so disappointed that we aren't a matched set anymore."

"Jimmy?" She wondered how Kurt could be a part of a matched set with anyone… he was unique.

"My brother. Well, my foster brother. Mother raised us both."

She could hear the warmth in his voice, he loved them. "I don't have any siblings. Must be nice."

"_Ja_. We fought sometimes, but we were brothers. We looked out for each other." He looked so sad now, speaking in the past tense, like he was mourning the dead.

She gripped his arm gently. "Can I see this vent, before I lose my nerve?" She was unsure what she was doing in this spooky place, except to see a part of his life, something that brought him joy.

"Um, yes. Kätzchen, it's quite a bit higher that this, so forgive me for asking, but…" He took a deep breath. "Doyouweighlessthanonehundredthirtypounds?"

"I don't even weigh that much when I'm soaking wet, so yeah. Why?"

"I can port us up there, and back down afterwards, so you won't be frightened. I know the top beam well, I spend a lot of time up there."

"Will it be safe for us?"

"My current weight limit is 130, and that means six ports carrying that much, the breadth of the training rooms, in under a minute. These ports will be less weight, less distance, and spread further apart. I can do that very easily." He smiled confidently.

"Okay," she said. "I trust you Kurt, take us there." She snuggled closer.

He nodded, holding her firmly. **_Bamf._** _Disorienting otherness!_ Then almost as soon as she registered that, they were standing on another, colder, beam. It was dark, and the candle was out. "_Ach_, the candle, and I didn't bring any matches. I can go get some…"

"Don't you dare leave me up here, or let me go!" She thought she sounded just a little on the panicked side.

"I will hold you as long as you like, Kätzchen." He put the cool candle in his pocket, and let the bowl fall into the darkness. She could hear it hit and rebound off unyielding steel all the way down. She shivered in fear, clutching his velvety arms.

"Don't worry, _liebchen_. If we fall, I'll just port us to the bottom. I have very quick reflexes that way." He scooted them both to the side a little bit, and carefully crouched, still holding onto her. She sank shakily to her knees, trying to bite back a whimper. "The metal here is cold, so come sit on my legs, and lean against me. Then you will feel warm and safe."

She started to rise again and wavered. He solved her vertigo by lifting her up and settling her on the firm bunched muscles of his thighs, pulling her tight against his chest. Slowly she stopped trembling. Inside the circle of his arms she felt secure.

"The vent is in the outer wall. It's as tall as we are, and several yards long. If you look out and little down, you can see the lights of a city below us."

Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she did see a carpet of yellow lights laid out in patterns under the sky-ship they lived in. "How beautiful," she breathed. "But why can't I see the stars?"

"It's overcast. Can you smell the water in the air? I think it will rain soon." The hovering clouds in the distance lit up with a silent flash, and seconds later, they heard a deep rumble. Little by little, in a march towards them, the yellow-specked carpet blurred, and finally the rain reached the Carrier.

Only hints of the rain carried over to them from their vantage point, mist blown in by the gusting winds. It was a welcome touch of weather, a kiss from Nature that she had missed for too long. The vent might be frighteningly high up, but she understood why he frequented it. It was a grounding reminder that there was still a world outside the metal walls.

"So. I was raised by the Romany. Where did you grow up?"

"It isn't as interesting as your youth. I lived in Deerfield Illinois, a suburb west of Chicago."

His eyes flashed with excitement. "Really? Wow… Oh, with gangsters and G-men! Have you ever seen any famous mobsters?" he said breathlessly.

She giggled. "Now who's been reading too many romantic stories? I swear you're as bad as those old radio dramas Dad listened too. That was in the '30's, Kurt, before the war. Chicago is just like any American city now. Safe. Boring."

"Oh." He shrugged. "Home is always boring before you leave it."

"Yeah." She'd done it too, she realized. Talked of her family in the past tense, like they were dead. After a silence, she spoke. "I thought of you this month, before the… test." She laughed. "I did your laundry. What were those suits dipped in that stunk so much?"

"Garbage. I'm the only Hound who lives down here, so I work with the trash men. Where do you think I get all my beautiful 'gently-used' furnishings?" He was quiet for a while too. "I thought of you, too. How nice you are. How pretty, and how nice you are to me." His lips brushed her face.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "Not half as nice as you are, Kurt. I… I think about you when I go to sleep. When I think I just can't go on anymore…" She turned her face to him, and kissed him softly, sadly. There was little passion in the kiss, only a heavy weight of emotion that she couldn't express any other way, at least, not right now.

"I, too, _liebchen_," he whispered when their mouths parted. He covered her face with slow kisses, and licked away the tears he could taste on her cheeks. "Salty," he rumbled, "…and still intoxicating."

His words and the way he said them made her quiver. "Oh God, Kurt, I…" He put a finger on her lips, stilling them.

"Hush. We have no guarantees here. We have only what we have. Don't make it worse for either of us by saying something too soon, before we're certain… what God's will is for us."

"Are you sure God has anything to do with us?" Her bitterness showed in her voice.

"Of course," he said. "In the depths of my torment, He brought me an Angel." She had to smile at that, he sounded so sure. He cocked his head suddenly, and she heard a distant, broken sound.

"_Verdammt_. It's the curfew notice. Time to go Kätzchen. I'm going to stand up, and port us to the curtains. Alright?" She nodded. He straightened his legs, still holding up her weight, without apparent strain. She had just time to wonder at his strength when… _Bamf._ And then they were elsewhere, in heavy darkness with music nearby. He parted the curtains, and led her out and back to the upper decks.

"_Auf Wiedersehen _then, _mein_ Kätzchen. Until next month." He gave her a quick buss on the lips and hurried away. She went back to the dorm, still thinking about what he'd said. 'My kitten'. He'd called her **_his_** kitten. Oh God, did he mean that?

After lights out she heard a soft sound above her, as Karla swung down and crouched next to her. "Is that Old Spice I smell, Kitty?" she whispered.

"Yeah. Kurt was wearing some," she whispered back. She sighed. "I love Old Spice."

"Me too, and it smells like he rubbed it all over you."

She heard quiet laughter, and she blushed in the dark. "It was kind of a mutual thing. And Karla? Thanks for trying to help me."

"No problem, sweetheart. I'm glad he could help you come back to us."

"Me too." She yawned hugely.

"Good night, Kitty." Karla climbed back into the bunk above her.

"G'night."


	9. Kurt - Politics as Usual

Kurt's alarm startled him awake, rousing him from the tatters of a very pleasant dream featuring Kitty. He sat up, glaring at his erection and his tail, the end of which was waving about as stiffly as his front. He stumbled to the shower, setting the tail to curl around him and satisfy the morning tension, while his hands were busy with his washing. Now his _Engel_ was seducing his dreams…

He had tried to thank Joe, but his supervisor gruffly ordered him to get to work. He remembered, it was supposed to be 'no big deal'. He nodded his understanding, and Joe stopped scowling at him. He tempered his giddiness with the reminder of the kind of place this was.

Monday's practice had been routine, but on Tuesday, Trainer Combs kept popping in and out of the session. Kurt's nervousness spiked on Wednesday, the tension making his fur crackle with electricity. He went through the preliminaries, and Combs called him over.

"Hound, you are needed on a mission later this month. Major Hedrick has had enough dallying. You will be tested out at 150 lbs by Friday. Today, you'll make 140. To encourage your performance, we've changed the weaponry around here. No more paintballs." He lifted a pistol that looked extremely real.

"This holds rubber bullets, and so do the auto guns." He fired at the floor, and the rubber projectile twanged off the deck and off the far wall before losing its momentum. "We're going to try a bit of extra 'motivation' on you. These will leave painful bruises, so if you hesitate too long during the test, you will get a warning shot nearby, then we'll shoot to hit you. Go to your mark and pick up your weight."

Kurt picked up the bag easily, as sweat wicked along his exposed fur to help cool him. His physical strength had long exceeded his porting abilities, but it seemed that would soon change. _Bamf_. He took it across, wincing in pain at the difficulty. He returned, and a dull ache started to form behind his eyes. He shook his head and ported once more; half way done. Taking a deep breath, he crossed again, giving a soft moan as the pain sharpened. He could do a 10-pound increase over a month, but inside of a week?

Combs started to draw a bead on him, and he went again… or tried to. _Wuff…_ The cloud of his teleportation began to form, and then faded. Kurt breathed hard, staring at Combs as the man pinged a bullet off the deck inches from him. Fear spiked in him, and he got across. A groan marked his arrival, and he almost dropped his weight. One more time…

His vision swam and he tried to port, finding his focus impossible to summon. The rubber bullet from Brestin whined off the floor. Combs aimed again, this time directly at his torso. He looked at the man, gasping in pain and exertion, silently pleading for mercy.

There was no mercy here. Combs fired dispassionately. The impact rocked Kurt backwards, his ribs protesting the blow. Brestin smirked, and aimed about a foot and a half lower. "_Nein_…" The gun fired, but Kurt wasn't there to receive the bullet. He appeared, mostly on his mark, and collapsed limply to the floor. It took awhile for him to awaken from his faint.

He felt shaky and nauseous, and they judged him not fit for anything else for the day. They told him to go to bed, and not go to work in the morning. He rested in fitful naps, separated by large meals. He wished more than anything that Kitty could be here to help him, as he had helped her. There was still most of the month to go until he could see her again. He survived by tucking the jumpsuit he'd worn to the Social under his pillow, for the faint smell of her that clung to it.

He reported to training Thursday, and performed as full an exercise set as he could. His reflexes were still a bit off, but the workout helped him to center. He was dismissed without any porting practice. The next day he was back to a full schedule. Friday's training was a repeat of Wednesday's, with the addition of a pistol with real bullets, and ten more pounds of weight. The early teleports seemed to go easier, more smoothly. He'd heard them speak of stress unlocking a new plateau of ability, and the last week seemed to have done that for him. He got through the first four ports quickly, and just avoided a warning shot on the fifth.

All his strength seemed to flow out of him. The last port was always the hardest. He flinched from the force of a rubber bullet on his chest. "Better move, Hound," Combs said. He lifted the live ammo pistol. Kurt ignored him, trying to find the concentration to port. The bullet grazed his arm, tearing a streak through suit, fur, and skin.

"The next one goes into your thigh. Don't be there." Kurt's eyes locked on his trigger finger. When it began to squeeze he harnessed his fear of the bullet into the momentary clarity needed for the teleport. He slumped down to his hands and knees, but he remained conscious.

"Alright. Now we're getting somewhere. The major would still like you up at 200 lbs, but that can wait for a bit. Skip your morning work shift tomorrow. On Monday, we begin your Mission training. You're done for now." He nodded gingerly and slowly went to change.

Kurt reported to training Monday, and repeated the oath. _Ave Maria_ was his German prayer of choice for the day, as he countered the corrosion of the litany. It was harder to do than usual today, as his concentration was shaky. After the opening exercises, Combs called him over. "Your mission role this time won't be combat oriented, but in the future, it will be. Try these on." He handed him metal gloves.

He put on the gauntlets and looked at him. They were made for his hands; articulated metal plates on a leather base. The palms were left without plating, but the backs of his hands were covered with knobs of steel. At Comb's direction, he went after the punching boards. They crunched beneath his blows readily.

"Nice. They seem to fit well enough… okay, off with them. From now on, you'll wear this pouch on your working suit. Get used to it there at your waist. It'll carry special equipment that you'll be issued." Kurt strapped the pouch on at his waist.

"This is your mission commander," Combs said. "He'll be sharing in the training this week."

"Hound, you've been given a codename; Nightcrawler. This is a proud moment in your life as a Hound. You hear me?"

"_Jawohl!_" Nightcrawler, he thought. Isn't that a sort of worm? How very unflattering.

"The main equipment you'll learn this week will be your break-in kit, and the grapple. Your ability to climb walls will be useful, but primarily you will be making sure the team follows you to the target location. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Breaking in? But to where?

"You'll be porting and climbing to spots on the approach, then deploying lines to allow the team to catch up. Once you've made the approach, you'll employ your kit to affect the actual entry. There are others on the team that can do it, but this is a skill we want you to learn. Now, this is a diamond tipped glasscutter. These are lock picks, with large handles to ensure you can grip them well. You'll also have a bulb of paint for cameras, oil for lubricating hinges, and wire cutters for alarms."

Kurt nodded, settling in to learn the devices. He learned about doors and windows, alarms and locks, and even safes. His hearing played a large part with the safes; the tumblers were easily audible to him.

The following week, he was excused from regular training. Instead he drilled with the mission team, learning layouts and floor plans. They practiced with the grapple and the transfers over horizontal and vertical distances. Kurt learned they were breaking into a New York skyscraper penthouse, and about the exact type of alarms and locks, the brand of safe, etc. Once entry was achieved, the team would complete the mission from there, but he was to obey any commands of the team leader.

Friday evening, Kurt was called to the mission room. The Shield flag was displayed, and he knelt and recited the oath. When he rose they put a collar on him. "This is an explosive collar, Hound. Should you try to flee or perform contrary to the interests of the mission, it will be triggered remotely and you will no longer have a neck. Am I understood?"

"_Jawohl_, sir." So much for his faint hope of escape.

"Get ready, and follow us…"

He put on his cat suit and his new equipment. Then they moved to the flight deck and took a transport to the New York City airport. The team boarded black vans, and Kurt was kept in the back where no one would see him. They drove into a parking lot under the target building and took an elevator to the roof.

Kurt had only moments to gaze at the beauty of the nighttime city. He was brought to the edge and shown where he was to port across to the building kitty-corner and down to them. He borrowed the night vision scope to get a firm lock, and handed it back. Shouldering the grapple, he ported across.

He sighted on them across the distance, and fired the soft grapple. They tied it off on their end, and he did the same on his. One by one they came across, joining him on the target building. The ledge they stood on went all the way around the building ledge. From here on up, the building was only half the length and depth of the public areas below them.

Taking a rope, he wall-walked up at the stone corner, trailing it behind him. The level he made next was a wide balcony that surrounded the private residence of the target. He tied off the rope, and began using the bulb of black paint to darken the camera lenses watching the doors. The rest of the team reached the balcony, and the leader signed for him to break in.

The locks on the sliding doors were extremely easy to open. One of the team oiled the tracks as he worked, and slid the doors open as soon as the locks gave. The leader kept him at the entry room while the agents fanned out throughout the house. Kurt heard silenced gunfire, and groaning noises of pain. A frightened man in nightclothes was shoved into the living room, and tied down to a chair. The commander injected him with something and they began to question him. The rest of the team gathered files and papers from the rest of the residence. Kurt smelled blood in the air. They had killed people, and he was the one who'd given them the access. He understood Kitty in a new way now.

The guilt was beginning to clench his stomach. From the questions they were asking, the man was publicly moderate about mutants and privately in favor of mutant rights. He was wealthy and influential, and Kurt knew he would also be dead before the night was out. Shield never tolerated dissent, and they were more than curious about who was in league with him.

The team commander told Kurt to come with him. They went into a well-appointed study with a massive oak desk with its drawers all opened, and fine leather furniture. A portrait leaned on the floor, exposing a safe on the wall. "I need quiet, please," Kurt said, and put his ear to the dull gray door. The practice on this model made it easy; he knew the exact sound the tumblers made when they locked into place. He got it open and was pushed out of the way as they rifled through the contents, discussing them. He crouched to the side and watched them impassively.

A faint noise got his attention, and he looked towards the desk. A coin of some sort rolled from underneath, on its edge, and a small hand reached from under the oak in an attempt to catch it, and was quickly withdrawn. A pair of eyes looked out from under the desk. It was a child, Kurt was sure; small enough to fit underneath, old enough to keep quiet. He stood and leaned over the commander as if he were interested in what he was doing. "Will you…!? Find someplace to sit down, Hound," the man said with irritation.

"_Jawohl_," Kurt said, and walked to where the coin had stopped rolling by the desk. He palmed it as he sat, holding it up behind the desk where they couldn't see his arm, so he could look at it. It was thick, with an ancient Greek helm in odd but bold colors on one side, and an ornate capital 'M' on the other. He had no idea of its importance, but he knew he wouldn't be giving it to the team.

The child peeked out at him. She was concealed to normal eyes, but she was plainly revealed to Kurt. His mouth curled into a slight smile that he quickly allowed to drop. She was glaring at him, and he locked eyes with her to show that he knew she was there. She put her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. A good part of his attention was spent watching the team as they studied the documents. He'd rather die than to betray her presence, so it was important that he didn't appear to be acting strange to them.

His tail moved to the back of the desk he sat near. One of the team gave him a quick glance, while he stared at the carpet as if he were bored. He made his tail move like a clumsy snake along the carpet, then rise up a little and wave at her with the tip. His concealed arm reached out and bopped it gently on the end, then shook a finger at it. The tail drooped, chastised.

He risked a glance at her and gave a tiny shrug, then grabbed the tail and pulled it over to him by hand, while the tail writhed quietly as if to get free. She covered her mouth again to keep from laughing. He let his tail go, and the tip swiveled back to him, poking him on the arm. He brushed at his arm, as if to shoo something away. The tail poked again, harder, and this time he looked at it. The tip angled up at his face, and then pointed broadly at the hand still holding the coin. He acted surprised that he still held it, and carefully laid it down within her reach behind the desk.

She snatched it up and tried to snap it in half, using all her strength in vain. She looked to be near tears, and shoved it back at him, pantomiming the breaking gesture, peering into his face. He picked it up, checking on the team, and tried to do it one handed. He couldn't, and he didn't dare try with both hands. He put the coin halfway into one of the snaffle clips on his uniform and used the leverage to break it in half.

It warmed in his hand briefly, and a faint odor of scorched circuits reached him. The pieces were matte black now, featureless. He put them on his tail end, and brought them to her on this surface. She took them and smiled at him, turning them over in her hand. She pointed back at the team, then at him, and shrugged a question. He tilted his chin up and scratched his neck fur just under the collar. His face was somber as he stared at his feet, but he could see her nod in understanding from the corner of his eye.

She pointed at his tail, and made a 'come here' gesture. He moved it over, and felt her touch it, petting the furry length of the end. She hugged it to her briefly, and he curled it around her and squeezed. Footsteps sounded in the hall, and he moved it away, gesturing for her to move fully under the desk. She did so, and he watched the agent report to the commander.

"Come on, Hound," the man said, and he joined them as they left the study. The target still sat in the chair, his throat cut and his chest covered with blood. Between his feet was a bomb set to go off in an hour. Kurt's gut clenched. His efforts to save the girl would be useless if she was still here when the bomb went off… Maybe she'd have the sense to leave when they were gone.

The team went out on the balcony into a light layer of overcast. He had thought the night would stay clear when they were outside earlier. They went down the rope and he untied it, and crawled down, coiling it up as he went. The motor pulleys got the team across to the other roof and he unfastened the near end of the thin grapple cable. They pulled it over to them, and he ported over to the launch building, as the clouds thickened, threatening rain.

He looked over to where they'd been, and thought he saw a red light bobbing on the balcony before he ducked into the helicopter that waited to take them to the airport. They took off in the transport just as dawn was breaking over the city. Through the windows of the plane he saw a bright flash as the top of the building exploded. He ducked his head and prayed fervently for the child's safety.

He ate a meal on the way back, and they left him alone. The deaths on his conscience pained him like a physical wound. Poor Kätzchen. How would she feel when they made her do the killing? Especially when it was a man like this, someone who might have been a friend, if not with them, but with their kind.

After they landed, they gave him an access card reserved for Hounds who'd done well on Missions. Then they dismissed him, as he wasn't needed for the debriefing. He took a hot bath, but he couldn't sleep. The souls of the dead haunted him. The little girl's eyes accused him of betrayal as she died in fire and violence in his imagination. His fingers rubbed together, wishing for his rosary…

In his kitchen he kept a ball of twine, and he unraveled a length nearly equal to his height. Folding it in half he found the middle of the string. He made a little loop of cord and tied it there. Then he made two more, smaller loops at the same point, but to the sides. One more little loop at the top and he looked at what he had. If he straightened out the loops, it resembled a little cross.

Then came the hard part. Up both lengths of the cord from the middle, he began a pattern of four small knots, and one larger. He had to untie them and start over on occasion, to make the sides even, but he kept at it until hunger forced him to stop. After he ate, he worked at it again until he had 24 knots total on each side of the center. He knotted the ends together and cut off the excess.

His hands ached from the tension and the careful control, but he had a little rosary now.

Kurt took it with him and entered the between space, then ported up the top. There he kneeled, giving proper prayers for the dead. He begged for the forgiveness of his sins, and for protection in this fell place. When he finished, he crouched in front of the vent and fingered his makeshift rosary, receiving comfort from the sheer familiarity of the ritual.

"_Gegrüßet seist du, Maria, voll der Gnade, der Herr ist mit dir. Du bist gebenedeit unter den Frauen und gebenedeit ist die Frucht deines Leibes, Jesus... Heilige Maria, Mutter Gottes, bitte für uns Sünder jetzt und in der Stunde unseres Todes. Amen._"


	10. Kitty - Brother of my Soul

Kitty came in with Karla an hour early to the Social room. They had volunteered to do the set-up for the month. They swept, put up tables, and wrangled the food and drinks. Kitty tidied up the alcoves and sprayed the curtains and blankets with air freshener that she'd liberated from the bathroom. Just because they were Hounds didn't mean no one should make an effort to improve the ambience. The guys might not notice, but she thought the ladies would appreciate it.

She'd found a dusty box of streamers that hadn't been bothered with in far too long. She was picking out colors when she sensed someone behind her. Whirling around, she found Kurt standing there, with a somber smile on his face. She squealed and flung her arms around his neck. He winced at the sharp noise, but his arms tightened around her hungrily. "Sorry love."

"I missed you, too, _liebchen_," he said with a chuckle.

"Can you help us with this? I'd like to make the place into less of a pit today."

"It already smells better. Did someone launder the bedding?"

"Me, probably. They get so grotty from all of this…" her hands gestured vaguely.

He looked confused at the unfamiliar word. "Nasty, disgusting, grotesque; grotty," she explained.

"Ah," he said. "An apt word for it."

"Good evening, Kurt. What are you doing here so early?"

"Mission privilege, _Frau_ Karla." His face was carefully neutral, but his tail twitched.

"So, you two have things to discuss later." He nodded gravely. "You can't take her off until we're done, though. We want to finish the decorating."

"Then permit me to assist and speed things along," he said with a bow.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" Kitty was getting concerned.

"Missions are troubling things, sweety. As troubling as some of our tests." She gave Kitty a significant look. "He probably needs to unburden on you, like you did last month."

Kitty looked at him, stroking his jaw line. He let his tension show in his face for a moment. "Okay, let's do this, so I can go help my elf…"

"_Ich bin elfenhaft_? Ah… I am elvish?" She touched the edge of his ear tenderly, stroking lightly up to the point. He shuddered and his tail went into a convulsive attempt to tie itself into knots. He grabbed her hand and held it to his chest, his eyes blazing intensely. "Not here." He took a deep breath and released her, picking up the streamers. "Tape?"

"Right here." She watched, as he did in minutes what she and Karla couldn't have done in an hour, if they had a ladder, which they didn't.

Karla loaded up the double turntables, and started the music. Kurt reached out for Kitty, and they danced a bit in the big room. They finished with a close embrace and a deep kiss. "Kätzchen," he groaned softly.

Applause made them start in surprise. Karla smiled at them. "I am so happy for you two. Kurt, you're a far cry from the uncertain lad I met a few months ago. It makes me sorry I didn't give you more of a chance." She winked. "Kitty, I'm really glad that you found someone. Now get along before anyone else gets here. He needs you."

They waved and hurried away to the lower levels of the Carrier. "I sometimes think it's appropriate," he said as they left the elevator. "That one who has been called a demon should live in the depths of this, our Hell." His rueful chuckle sounded a little forced.

Kitty stopped him outside his door, pushing close to him, pinning him against the wall. "You're not a demon, Kurt. Never that. You're my Elvin prince…" She kissed him timelessly. He swept her up in his arms, opened the door with his tail, and carried her to the couch, all without breaking the kiss.

She pulled away finally, laughing. "A man of many talents, I see." He colored purple under the blue fur, and she touched his cheek to feel the heat of his blush. "Modest, too."

"_Und mein_ Kätzchen is in a playful mood today, _ja_?"

"_Ja._" She smiled. "Why do I get the idea that I'm going to learn a lot of German with you?"

"It would only be fair, I know a lot of English… and there are moments when it is impossible to translate one's thoughts from the native tongue." He kissed her just below her ear, smiling as she shivered from the feeling of his breath and his lips.

"Okay…" she said pulling back a little. "We need to talk about your mission, or we'll just make out the rest of the evening… not that it would be a bad thing."

"'Make out'? I'm afraid my English slang is weak, _liebchen_."

"American, actually. I don't think the British say this." She touched his lips, and waggled her eyebrows, all the while blushing furiously. "Sex play, with or without the sex."

"Hmm. Tempting… but later." He smiled a little, and sat back. "At the beginning of the month, they forced my port weight up to 150 lbs, with the addition of rubber, and real bullets as incentive." He shrugged off the top of his suit and showed her the bullet crease on his arm, the fur on the healing mark lighter and shorter than on the rest of his arm. She pressed her fingers to her lips and then on the mark. He squeezed her hand in silent thanks.

"When I achieved the goal they'd set, they began training me to open doors and safes. They gave me lock picks and things like that. My job on the mission was to cross distances the team couldn't make on their own, quietly, and help them to follow me. I ported across the roofs and sent them a grapple. If they had fired it from their side it might have alerted someone. I walked up the wall with a rope for them to climb. Then I opened the door for them."

He closed his eyes. "They were after one man, but they killed everyone else there. They drugged and questioned him and killed him as they left." He sighed deeply. "I only hope the little girl got away."

"Little girl?" Kitty asked. She could see how this was bothering him. He might not have killed those people, but he felt the guilt for them nonetheless.

"_Ja_. After I opened the safe I saw a child under the desk. I sat near her, and… communicated with her, quietly. I didn't want to betray her presence, and see her die as well. But… they left a bomb in the building, Kätzchen . I saw the explosion. _Gott_, I hope she wasn't still there." He sounded close to tears. She pulled him into her arms.

"Hey, love. You did what you could. She wasn't scared of you?"

"No… it's strange. She smiled when I played a joke, and even pet my tail."

Kitty mock frowned, and grabbed his tail. "Okay, now I'm jealous… she pet you?" She stroked the end of his tail slowly with feather light touches. He groaned.

"_Nein…_ not like that. She was only 8 or so, Kätzchen . She pet it like it was a cat or a dog, not… like you are. _Mein_ tail is sensitive, but like a finger is sensitive. My reaction to the touch depends on the context." Kitty kept stroking him, hearing his breathing grow slightly ragged. "If someone were to tap my finger, fine. It is just a touch. But if someone, like you _mein liebe_, were to nibble and lick my fingers… that would be sexy… erotic."

"Like this?" Kitty brought the twitching tail up to her mouth, and put a gentle bite on a bottom corner of the spade, and continued to do so along the angle up to the tip. Kurt sat frozen, watching her, as she transferred her attentions to the other side and repeated the journey. When she nipped the end and then ran her tongue up the center, he reached out and grabbed her.

One large hand slid from her waist upwards to cup the underside of her small breasts. The other curled around her and up to her neck, then rubbed firmly down her back to fondle her bottom. He alternated from kissing her hard to breathing heavily against her ear. "_Ja_, just like that, you little minx. So soft…"

Kitty gasped at his caresses. Her bosom was something she was sensitive about. The other lady Hounds were years older than her, and she didn't think her chest compared with any of them. She touched the hand cupping her. "You… you like them? They're not very big…"

"Of course I do. Kätzchen , the thing about breasts is that they should fit the woman who has them. You are young and small still, and they fit you perfectly. But most importantly, they are yours. That makes them very special to me." He grinned and leaned forward, rubbing his face against the softness of her breasts.

She giggled and pushed at him. When he leaned back, she bit her lip. "Okay, close your eyes and cover them with your hand." Her face was flushed red again.

"Why?" He frowned a little and his tail curled around her ankle.

"Just do it, buster… You'll like it." He complied with her wishes, sighing heavily.

She took a breath, and unzipped the top of her suit, shrugging out of it as he had done. She reached behind her and undid the clasp of the military issue bra she hated. She made it into a little bundle and put it in the thigh pocket of her jumpsuit, and pulled her top back on, with the zipper down enough to show what little cleavage she had.

Kurt was quivering, his sensitive ears obviously hearing the zipping and rustling noises she made. "Okay, you can look now.'

He pulled his hand away and snapped his eyes open. His jaw dropped and he stared with a fierce desire that made her feel very female, and mature. "_Danke, liebchen_," he said with husky gruffness. "I like my present very much… may I open it?" His hands crossed part of the distance between them; making squeezing motions he didn't seem aware of.

She hesitated, still embarrassed to show all of herself. "A little… sorry, Kurt."

He smiled reassuringly. "A little is more than I've ever had _liebchen_. It will do." He pulled her close and put his nose against the soft flesh now revealed, breathing in deeply, drawing in her scent. He turned his face and planted hot kisses on the inside curves of her breasts, his hands coming up to rub them through her suit.

She leaned back into the corner of the couch, drawing him with her in a reversal of their positions the month before. Her hands played in his dark hair, stroking the sides of his face and neck. He slowed his caresses, seeming to sense her mood. He opened her neckline a little more, and laid his face on the smooth skin at the top of her chest, his head tucked just under her chin. His hands lowered and encircled around her, holding her.

She whispered then, "Let it out, Kurt. The pain, the fear, the anger; let it go." Warm wetness dripped on her skin, pooling into tracks and trickling down her body. The evidence of his trust and need stirred fierce emotions of protectiveness, making her understand how he'd felt before with her.

She swallowed a lump, trying to find words to help him, and realizing they applied to her just as well. "Whether it is our hands that do the killings, love, or we are just facilitating others, the sins are not ours. We are forced to be here, forced to learn these horrible things, and forced to do them." Her hand dropped and traced the scar on his arm.

"They give us no choice. They will hurt us or kill us if we don't do what they say, and to kill ourselves would be to add even more sin to our souls. So we just try to survive, beloved, and try to keep our secret selves whole. That is all we can do." He nodded his head slightly from where it lay against her, and wept until the tension drained away.

He lay against her as she cradled him to her bosom in a posture that was at once motherly and intimate. He moved then, his tongue licking his tears from her skin. He started to chase after the tear tracks that had curled down around her ribs or between her breasts but she tugged on his hair. "Nuh-uh, guy. I get to keep those. I believe the phrase goes 'I'll brush it out later'.

He chuckled weakly, and lifted his head, pressing his damp lips to hers. Their tongues slid against each other in a manner they were beginning to really enjoy. "Salty…" she said.

He nipped her lower lip. "That's my line." He sat up besides her and stretched, baring his fangs in a snarl of pleasure / pain as his back arched backwards into an impossibly deep curve.

She got up and stretched herself, drawing his eyes. She went to the record player and started stacking up records and starting the music. She bent down and untied her boots. "You get to go barefoot," she said as she pulled them off. "It's hard to feel sexy wearing combat boots."

"You look sexy anytime, to me," he said. He lifted a furred foot for her inspection. "It's very hard to make shoes for these feet, _liebchen._"

She grabbed his foot and looked at it closely. She tugged curiously at the rear toe, and it curled to squeeze her fingers. When she rubbed down the middle of his sole he hissed, his foot jerking in her grasp. "Ticklish?" She grinned.

He flashed his fangs back at her in cheerful challenge. "Are you? Because if you tickle me, I'll return the favor, with interest."

She let his foot go. "Very, actually. I've been told it's a surefire way to make me cry, when I laugh so hard I can't breathe anymore."

"Then I won't tickle you, because it breaks my heart to see my Kätzchen cry." His hand came up to cup her face as he smiled into her eyes. She leaned against him, and they listened to the music.

The record ended, and a new one began. A harsh tattoo of drums began playing and they both sat bolt upright when the Shield march started to play. He jumped to his feet and dove for the record player. He snatched off the stack on the spindle and handed them to her. Lifting the needle arm, he picked up the offending disk. He loaded the stack back on the spindle and started the music again.

"'March Around The World: A Collection of the World's Greatest Marches'," he read off the label, and then snapped the record in half, dropping the halves on his spool-table. He stalked into the kitchen, returning with a hammer and a waste bin. Sitting back on the couch, he smiled viciously, and took the hammer to half the record, reducing it to powdered fragments and shards of vinyl.

She watched him pound out his frustrations with amusement. He turned and offered her the hammer with a courtly flair. "Would milady care to take a turn? I found it to be most satisfying."

"Why, certainly, sir," she answered archly in kind, and giggled. She smashed the record hard, picturing every cruel, sadistic moment of her life since she'd been discovered. It was only a symbol, but a symbol of something they both loathed with a passion, and to make even a token stab back felt very good, indeed.

When her half was equally destroyed, he brushed the debris into the bin and returned it and the hammer to his kitchen. "Well," he said. "I guess I hadn't listened to all the records Joe gave me. That one didn't have a sleeve, and I only knew that I wasn't in the mood for marches. Sorry _liebling_."

"S'okay. Who's Joe?" She cuddled close again, needing his nearness.

"The boss in the garbage room. He's… nice to me. He's not a Shield agent." He gestured around the main room. "All this is his generosity. This was a bare room when I moved in."

"I thought everyone on the Carrier was an agent."

"Would an agent tend the furnaces, or deal with the trash? They feel they are above that sort of thing, so common workmen do the dirty work they can't get Hounds to do."

"Yeah. I can't picture that creepy tattoo guy being an agent."

He snorted. "Or the doctor. He seems more like the mad scientist type to me."

She traced the ridges on his face that parted the fur and marked him as a Hound. His eyes closed and he shivered in remembered pain. "Did it hurt, love?" she said.

His lip curled. "Of course it did, but not nearly as much as the vasectomy."

"You remember it? They knocked me out for the tubal."

His yellows dulled, and he lifted them slowly. "Kätzchen , I watched him do it. With no painkillers. I fainted halfway through, thank _Gott_."

"Bastards. Sadistic sons of bitches. I'd love to see them rot in Hell."

He raised an eyebrow. "That would mean that you were there to see it, and _mein Engel_ would never be in such a place."

"I don't know about that, love. Aren't we already in Hell?"

"Maybe, but it is Heaven to me, when I am with you." He chuckled. "Our relationship is strange. It's moving so fast, Kätzchen. This is only, what- our third meeting? And yet…"

"…And yet, it seems like we've known each other forever. I know. And I've let you get to second base already…" She gave a mock embarrassed look, smiling. "I'm such a scarlet woman."

"Only when you blush, _liebchen_." He kissed her. "How about a dance?"

"Okay, but you pick something. My last try didn't go so well."

"I know just the one. Wait here, I'll be back." He went to the player and cleared off the stack. Searching through his collection, he found the one he was looking for, and opened space for them to dance. He reached for her hand as castanets began to clack softly behind him.

"What is this?" she said, as a single clarinet joined in with a sweet slow melody.

"Ravel's 'Bolero'. Very long. It starts soft and ends loud. Now, hush."

It was a very long song, slowly building in intensity, while never varying from the steady, stately rhythm. Layer upon layer, one instrument built on the last, in a dozen variations of the basic melody line. They danced closely, experiencing the buildup themselves, as they pressed closer or touched more intimately as the song went on. At the crescendo finale, when the whole orchestra was playing, he collapsed to the floor in a heap – as the song itself seemed to do [*] – drawing her down on top of him. He panted theatrically, feigning exhaustion.

She looked down into his face, laughing. "You are a very silly man. Surely you aren't comfortable there on the floor."

He looked up at her warmly, squeezing her hips. "I would happily lie on broken glass, if your softness was touching me, Kitty."

She stared blankly back at him. His words were like hot knives, which healed instead of harmed. She scrambled to her feet, and fled to the kitchen where she got herself a glass of juice. He'd given an 'oof' as she'd gotten up, then silently followed her, sitting near. She didn't look at him, but she knew he was there.

"Did I say something wrong, Kätzchen ? Because I meant those words… down to my very soul."

She hung her head, shivering. "I know. It's just… no one has ever said anything so… sweet to me. No one has ever cared for me like it seems you do, not even my parents. And I'm scared. I'm scared of the intensity of your feelings, and the intensity of mine."

She offered him the glass of juice and he took a drink. She spoke softly. "It's frightening to feel that I can't live without you, when either one of us could be dead at any time. Part of me thinks we're making a mistake, getting so close, and the rest of me wants to be wrong." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Maybe the other Hounds have the right idea, taking and giving only casual comfort, with no strings attached."

"They have less to lose, _liebchen_, but also less to gain. By never lowering their barriers to each other, they are always alone at their very core. I don't want to be alone."

"Then why do we play this game?" Tension made her voice seem shrill in her ears. "Why should we care what fucking base we're on? We want each other, we… love each other. Let's just take the comfort we can give each other. Tonight. Now."

[Hell of a place to stop, ain't it? Hehehe.]

[*] Great song. I highly recommend it. The version I have is 18 minutes long, no joke. It just keeps building and building until it just shudders to a stop (like sex). There was a famous 1984 Olympics Ice Dancing routine to the song that made me feel like a voyeur at a seduction. The British pair, Torville and Dean, won the gold with it, and rightly so. [Watch it on Youtube.] And, I think they took part of the music from ST: TOS's 'Amok Time' from it (the Vulcan 'Pon Far' music).


	11. Kurt - One Heart to Another

Kitty and he were close to one another, happy, and then she'd run from him, putting up a barrier between them. She was scared, he could smell the fear, but she seemed equal parts scared of him and scared for him. She talked about how slowly their relationship was progressing, doubting their actions.

The Hound's way was not for him, not right for them. "They have less to lose, _liebchen_, but also less to gain. By never lowering their barriers to each other, they are always alone at their core. I don't want to be alone."

She seemed upset, near tears, and at war with herself. "Then why do we play this game? Why should we even care about what fucking base we're on. We want each other, we… love each other, let's just take the comfort we can give each other. Tonight. Now." She looked at him, her eyes and face both hot.

Kurt drew her to her feet, facing him. He cupped her face, and stroked his fingers down the sides of her neck and out to her shoulders. He held the neck of her jumpsuit and began to slowly pull it open, off her shoulders, baring her to him. He kissed the exposed skin on the top of her shoulders, still shuddering from the intensity of her emotions, and he continued to push her top down.

She chewed her lip, and just before he revealed her breasts she whimpered and grabbed his hands. He stopped instantly, looking into her eyes. "This is why, _mein_ Kätzchen . We are not ready yet. We are young, scared, and inexperienced, and as much as we care for one another, we simply need more time to make it right." He tugged her top back up over her shoulders, but left the zipper down somewhere around her navel.

She started to reach for the zipper; to do what, Kurt couldn't guess. She stopped, and took his hands, kissing his palms. Slowly she brought them closer, brushing her suit open and placing his hands firmly on her areolas. "Touch me… please?" she whispered.

"As much as you want, and no more, _mein liebe_." Her comfort zone seemed to consist of still having the suit up, at least on the edge of her shoulders, but she'd granted him full access within those boundaries. He kneaded her breasts, to the sounds of her moans, cupping them easily in his palms. He shifted his right hand and grasped her hard nipple between his thumb and finger.

She gasped when he pinched it lightly and twirled it. Encouraged, he did the same with her other breast. Her eyes rolled up and her knees began to buckle. He put his arms around her to hold her up… the kitchen was not the place to do this, obviously. His bed? No… that would probably violate her current zone of comfort with him. He scooped her up and took her to the couch, setting her down.

"God, Kurt… that was… wow." She leaned into his kiss.

"Kätzchen , I don't know about these bases you refer to, but… there are ways we can make each other feel good without intercourse." He sat near her, not touching her sexually, but nuzzling her neck.

"Baseball terminology," she said between kisses. "First base is heavy kissing. Second is touching above the waist, third is touching below the waist… you can guess what 'homerun' is… Deal, love. I can handle third base." She blushed and glanced down his body. "In fact, I think I'd like to…"

He shivered. She wanted to touch him _there?_ But first things first… "Lay down, _mein liebe_, stretch out." She did so, her face flushed and the scent of her arousal clear to him. He stretched out beside her on his side, and put his hands on her breasts again, squeezing her roundness and tweaking her nipples. He nibbled her ear, her neck, and her collarbone. Her fingers trailed though the fur of his shoulders.

Her soft moans were punctuated by a shuddery groan. "Kurt…" He levered himself above her, looking down with a smile. He nudged her knees apart with one of his own, planting it between her legs. Bracing himself with one hand, he brought his mouth down to take its place on her chest. As he nuzzled and licked her nipples, her top fell off her shoulders, but if she noticed, she didn't seem to care.

Giving in to his own urges, he rubbed his erection against her hip, taking care to press between her legs as well. With another gasp, her hands came down and clawed at his waist, scritching him through the fur. After more rubbing, her hands moved to his hips, pulling him down against her harder. He obliged, letting nearly his whole weight assist the friction between them. Her own hips moved, and her back arched up to his body, his touch, and his mouth. "More. Faster," she pleaded.

"_Ja, mein_ Kätzchen ." He increased his efforts, panting with exertion and sensation.

"Aaahhh… Oh!" She shuddered violently, convulsing, seemingly forgetting to breath. Every iota of her was taut with the tension of pressing against him as hard as possible. She collapsed finally, breathing fast, her cry of completion yielding to quiet sighs and moans. She pulled him closer, and he snuggled in, still gently grinding his arousal against her.

He leaned up to kiss her, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose from the liquid heat of her tongue seeking for his. The warm wet wrestling distracted him for a while, then he pulled away long enough to speak. "Liked that, did you, Kitten?"

"Mm hmm. Better than wow. Better than anything."

"I'm glad I could do that for you." He groaned then, against her neck. "Ah, Kätzchen." Heavy lidded eyes looked into his, seeing the need still in him. She slid her hand down his body, pushing him back enough to find and press on his hardness. Her hand moved on him, testing his length and size. She found the buttons of his suit fly, and unfastened them, slipping inside. Now only his boxers separated them but her trembling fingers reached within those as well.

He gasped when she touched him, and he poured heated kisses on her neck and chest. She stroked him lightly, diffidently, and he moaned in frustration.

"Tell me what to do, how to touch you…" she whispered.

"Wr… wrap your sweet hand around me, near the base," he said hoarsely, and groaned when she did, and squeezed there. "Now, hold tight, and slide your hand up to the end, then… then back down again." Her hand stroked his hot flesh, sliding the loose skin up and back and he quivered in pleasure. She kept stroking him, needing no further encouragement.

"_Ja, mein liebe_, touch me like that. _Gott_!" Words failed him then, and he devoured her mouth. Then he used his own to taste every part of her he could reach and not break the critical connection of her hand on his erection. His breath quickened and he laid his forehead against her neck. "Faster, Kätzchen , I'm close… ahh… Kätzchen , _Ich liebe dich_." His hips bucked as his orgasm surged over her hand. He jerked a few more times, and finally lay still, panting.

She nuzzled his face, and waited for his breathing to quiet. "Um, Kurt?" She wiggled her fingers against his softened member, still covered with his sticky emissions.

"Ah, wipe the worst of it off on my shorts, _liebe_. When I'm ready to let you go, you can clean up in my bathroom." She blotted her hand on his boxers and pulled it out of his clothing. She looked at the residue, and touched her tongue to it, making a little face. She smiled slyly and looked up with mischief sparkling in her eyes. He chuckled, "And if you say 'salty' I will spank you, _liebchen_."

She snickered softly and then snuggled tightly against him. "Was that good?"

"Better than wow, _liebe_. Better than anything I've ever felt." He sighed, stroking her back. "My imagination did your talents no justice. I commend you."

"Beginner's luck," she said, blushing.

"Then I eagerly await the skills more diligent practice will gain you." He hugged her tightly, then loosened his hold and leaned back. "Go wash up, Kätzchen. We both reek of sweat and sex." He patted her bottom as she got up, pulling her top back in place but not closing the zipper. She snorted in mock annoyance at him.

He listened to her wash, and she came out shaking her head in amazement. "You lucky… you have a bathtub. The dorms only have gang showers. I'll have to spend one of these months just taking a long hot bath."

"Only if I get to watch, _liebe_, or maybe join in?" He waggled his eyebrows. "It _is_ my bathtub."

"Down, boy. You look entirely too eager to see me wet and naked." His eyes defocused, contemplating the image she'd invoked. "Okay, I did NOT say that."

"Too late, _mein liebe_, you did. Ah, the stuff of my fantasies…"

"Kurt!" She flamed red, looking uncomfortable.

He stood, and put a hand on her face. "Is it so hard to think that I see you as a desirable and beautiful woman?"

"I… Yes. I'm a fourteen-year-old girl, Kurt. I was one of the scrawniest, least developed girls in my year, let alone my school. And… especially compared to the ladies, when I look in the mirror, I don't see a woman. I see a child."

He kissed her forehead. "Children don't have orgasms, _liebchen_." She looked away. "Go to the bathroom while I get a change of clothes. I want to show you something." He walked her to the little hallway, and left her there while he grabbed a new suit and a pair of boxers. He put them by the bathroom sink and stood behind her. He turned her to the mirror, and slipped her top off quickly, ignoring her gasp.

"Look at yourself, Kätzchen . You can't have gone three months in the Hound program without changes. I see differences in your since we first met, and that's only been two months. Do you wear the same size brassier that you did in school?" He feather-touched the top of her shoulders, and she shivered.

"No, but…" He reached around her and pulled her top up to cover her breasts, holding it here, but left her arms and shoulders still bare.

"And scrawny? Hound training builds muscle. Tense your upper body, as if you were lifting the weight bar. She lifted her arms and flexed, her muscle definition easily visible. "I think the children of your school wouldn't know you, you've changed so much." He kissed her neck and stepped back.

She pulled her top back up, looking thoughtful. "What about you? How have you changed?"

He sighed. "I was always athletic, but I've been here for more than half a year. I also have the advantage of gender, and a year on you in age. Before I came here, I didn't look like this." He struck a body builder pose, and she took a quick breath at the sculptured definition of his upper body, only softened slightly by the downy blue velvet that covered him.

"Whoa," she said, with a little smile. "That's very… nice."

He relaxed, and made shooing gestures at her. "And now I'd like some clean clothing, so go listen to the music unless you want to stay and watch… or help."

"Tempting," she said. "But later." She scritched her fingers though his chest fur as she left.

"And stop stealing my lines!" he said, chuckling. He washed, and put on the clean outfit. He saved the suit for use under his pillow, but the soiled boxers went into his laundry bag. He came out with his top down around his waist again, but feeling much cleaner.

She was sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped around them. Her eyes were defocused in the distance. He curled up next to her, curious what she was thinking. She glanced towards him, "Would you like me outside of all this? If… we had met before, and discounting your appearance. That isn't a factor for me now."

"It would be a factor in the scenario you suggest." He shrugged. "I always take my appearance into account, I have to. But what is it that you really want to know?"

She grimaced, but whispered, "Is it just that we're the only ones available… of nearly the same age?"

"Ah. Let me think." He closed his eyes and pondered her question. "If I had met you before, and by some miracle you weren't repulsed by… this," his hands and tail did a parallel gesture indicating his mutation, "yes, I would be attracted to you. A gypsy tribe is like an extended family. The girls near my age all seemed like cousins to me, and none of them were very interesting. But when you smile, _liebchen_, your face lights up amazingly. Your eyes glitter so, and your mouth is so expressive."

He leaned over and stole a kiss from her. "You are so clever, and funny. I like that very much… I always love a fine sense of humor, like that of my mother and brother. _Und_ as for your body, pretty Kitty… let us say, that many mornings I have to do what you did for me, because of the images of you that sweeten my dreams."

She blushed and he pulled her into his embrace. "If I have to tell you again and again how lovely you are to me, I happily accept that duty. Truly,_liebe_, I find your doubt of yourself hard to understand. But even more difficult for me, is how you can accept me… how my appearance is no longer a factor, as you say?"

She looked surprised. "I dunno… I don't see it as being weird anymore, just… nicely different. Everything I know about you tells me that… you fit yourself. You're a part of a cohesive whole that just happens to look like you do. If you were an accidental collection of random freakish attributes, why is it that everything you can do so perfectly complements everything else?"

"My mother used to say something like that. I am built to the general parameters of a man, she told me, but the fine details were changed, as if to make me fit for something else. Some other way of living, perhaps. I don't know about that. I only know the fear and disgust I see in the eyes of strangers when they see me. It is hard to judge myself well when that happens." He caught his tail in his hands and looked at it.

"Why should you care how others see you?" she said.

"Why should you? Your peers judged you scrawny and immature, and despite evidence to the contrary, you cling to that perception. We are taught from the time we are born that we should judge things the way the world does. If I were to let myself do that, I would have to agree I am a demon and a monster." The tail curled around one wrist and then the other.

"But, you're so well adjusted… you like yourself, mostly. The only time I see you getting bitter is about the way others see you. How'd that happen?"

"Love, my Kätzchen ." He gave her a sweet smile. "The love my mother and brother gave me, the support of my family and tribe, and the love of Jesus, who loves us all no matter what we are, or do. He is endlessly ready to intercede for us with the Throne of God. Saint Paul the Apostle said, 'Be not conformed to the World, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind'. To me that means the judgment of the world is not to be trusted."

"I once heard a saying that went… 'A person is smart. People are dumb'. It had something to do with the collective IQ of a group dropping the larger it got. I see your point, though. I've heard lots of stupid things that 'everybody knows is true' about girls, Jews, mutants… and fuzzy blue elves."

"Oh? Does that mean I am no longer alone in this condition?" He grinned. "And what do 'they' say?"

"Hmm. They say that they are great kissers, and better dancers. They're unbearably handsome and sweet, and they have the cutest German accents…"

"I think that perhaps what 'they' say in this case sounds a lot like you, _liebe_."

"Oops, have I been spreading rumors again? I've got to stop doing that. You heard what Karla said. If more ladies find out about your charms, I'll have to beat them off with a stick." She mock snarled, giggling.

He gave a dismissive wave of his tail. "Such a lady would have to do much to approach you in my affections. Perhaps if she served me German beer and bratwurst…"

"You… you beast!" She squealed and leaped at him, tickling and nipping everywhere she could reach. He fended her off, and then joined in, tickling and kissing her unmercifully.

She stopped suddenly, gasping for breath, tears of mirth streaming from her eyes. He pinned her down underneath him and licked the tears away. She made a face and squirmed, trying to shake loose his grasp, to no avail. She strained harder, and he just smiled. She smiled back and a flush colored her cheeks as she considered their positions.

"Ah," he said. "Do I want to wash up twice tonight?" He was hard again, something he knew she could feel pressing against her. He was lying fully between her legs, his weight firmly lodged where it would do the most good.

"Mm, Kurt…" She brought up her hands and began scratching through the velvet of his neck, and working down his shoulders to his back. His arousal faded slightly as he simply reveled in the sensual pleasure of what she was doing. He laid his forearms on the couch next to her torso, and held part of his weight up while letting her fingers do as they wished to his back. She laughed softly at the blissful moans he gave as she worked as far down as she could and all the way back up again.

He sighed in pleasure and wrapped his arms around her and neatly flipped them around, so that he was beneath her. He brushed her top down again, and began rubbing her bare back, kneading the muscles and giving light scratches with his wide nails. She wriggled in approval, making little blissful sounds of her own. The last time he'd done this, she'd been too wound up to really notice anything except she didn't hurt anymore, but now she acted much like her namesake, giving her whole attention to his caresses.

She laid her head down on his chest and breathed slowly, rocking her hips a little on the hardness under her. He finished rubbing her back and arms, and helped her get her top back up to her shoulders. "It's probably getting late, Kätzchen ," he said as he kissed her.

"Mm. Let's just lay here for a while, until it's time to go," she said.

"Okay," he said. "I'm not in a hurry to get up either." He wrapped his arms loosely around her and they settled into more comfortable positions.

The candles burned low and sputtered out.

When the fifteen minute alert sounded in the hallway, a blue tail curled by the slumbering forms on the couch. Not even that stirred when the five-minute warning echoed in the hall.

-End Act 1.


	12. Kitty - Rude Awakenings

ACT 2

**_Interlude on the Small Screen_**

_Picture this: A Public Service Announcement during prime time television hours._

_[Film rolls on the American Midwest plains. Mountains brood in the distance, over a golden field of ripe wheat, and fluffy clouds drift in crystal blue skies. The focus tightens to down to a figure standing in the wheat. The powerfully built figure wears a set of fine blue chain mail trimmed in red and white.]_

_A deep male voiceover speaks:_

_"Like the man who inspired it, the organization of Shield is dedicated to preserving the American way of life, from threats both within and without this great nation."_

_[The face is slightly indistinct. It's an actor, obviously. The man he's portraying may be aging well, but not this well. The camera spins slowly around him to pause and focus in on the shield he wears. Red, white, and red rings circle around the deep blue center that bears a single white star.]_

_"But now, more than ever, Shield, and its founder need your help, the help of the American people. Every citizen owes a duty to protect our homeland, and we need your help now."_

_[Fade to EXTREME CLOSEUP of a blue-cowled brow; the blue mask framing a pair of clear blue eyes, narrowed in paternal concern.]_

_"There is a threat to each one of us, to our children, and our very way of life. The plague called the X-gene can be eradicated in our lifetime, if YOU stand with us. Now is the time. Watch your neighbors, watch your co-workers, and watch your children."_

_[The camera cuts back to the shield, and slowly reverses its spiral, until the figure squarely faces the camera, and points gravely out to the viewer.]_

_"It's up to you to prevent this contagion from spreading, and to protect your fellow citizens against the traitors among us who sympathize with them, and work to bring this disaster down on us all. He needs YOU to call if you know of anyone that we should be interested in."_

_[The camera moves in, to center on his stern face, and he nods briskly at the viewer. A number flashed on the bottom of the screen. 1-800-4SHIELD.]_

_"The number is on your screen. Call now."_

A few hours into Saturday's work first work shift, a concerted effort was underway to find Kitty. She had last been officially seen leaving the dorm the previous evening to set up for the Social, but hadn't checked out with the party guard as she had the previous two months. Her bunkmate confirmed that she'd left with the Hound Nightcrawler once more, but that they'd left before the event was properly started.

Her trainers met up with his, who'd just been alerted that he also hadn't reported to work. Outside of Kurt's door, Combs explained the original nature of the quarters, and why he'd been placed here. They entered, and Combs and Vaile turned to the right, while Howards and Brestin went to the left.

Brestin checked that the bathroom was clear, and Howards could see that neither of the beds had been slept in. The far one wasn't even made. They turned back to the kitchen where the other two agents were standing. Howards raised an eyebrow, and Combs pointed over the bar into the main room. On a battered, much repaired couch, their two lost sheep lay asleep, him spooned behind her.

Kitty's suit gapped open, and one of his furred hands was tucked somewhere inside it. His top was off completely, and her boots were tumbled on the floor. He had a leg tucked over hers, and his tail was curled around one of her arms.

"Aw, ain't it 'tweet…" Brestin whispered. "Fuck me, though. Is this gonna be a problem?"

"That has yet to be seen," Howards said, and sighed. "Okay, on the count of three, we bust in their screaming and scare the Hell out of 'em. 1-2-3!"

The reaction of the Hounds was gratifyingly startled. Kurt sat bolt upright and crawled up the back of the couch, smashing his head against the wall before he finally stopped. Kitty lurched forward, falling face first onto the floor. She looked up owlishly, and squirmed to zip up her front while still lying prone.

"Up on your knees, you worthless mutants!" Howards bellowed. "No one gave you freaks permission to skip a work shift, so you're both in big trouble!" They scrambled to kneel before the couch, sparing each other a sickened glance before looking at their trainers, terrified.

Kitty tentatively began reciting the litany, and he joined her quickly. "I belong to Shield. They own my very breath. I live at their whim, I die at their whim…" Their voices blended in an alto-tenor harmony as they repeated it over and over.

Combs snapped at them. "You keep doing that, Hounds, and maybe we'll believe you."

The trainers withdrew into the kitchen. "So what are we going to do about them?" Combs said. "Keep them apart? It seems to me that they've been keeping each other going."

Howards scratched his chin. "I know for damned sure that your guy kept me from having to kill mine last month. She went a little psycho after a test, but after they met up last time, she was okay again."

"Looks to me like a case of overactive hormones. Maybe we can use that against them," Brestin said.

"Lust isn't a good enough leverage," Vaile said. "Better yet, we use their affections as our hold. C'mere guys, look at them. Even now, with all the trouble they're in, they can't stop touching each other." Sure enough, a furry tail was curling around her ankle. Her bare foot was crossed over to stroke it. Their hands slowly stole together and clasped as they continued reciting the oath.

"You got an angle Vail?" Combs said.

"I have contacts in the Major's office. Both of them have displayed a deep-set resistance to their programming. If we held each of them as hostage for the other's behavior…"

"That could work," Combs said. "But we'll have to get the Major's permission."

Vaile smiled. "Believe me, they've been looking for a hook to get those two going, and we're about to hand it to them on a silver platter."

"Now that's an excellent suggestion," Howards said with a smile. Brestin nodded his agreement.

Shouting woke her up. Her trainers were there, and other people. They were very angry and she didn't know why. She felt Kurt's warmth behind her, and that was wrong, they shouldn't be waking up together; he'd get in trouble. She lurched away from him, falling forward off the couch, feeling an inordinate amount of skin touching the floor. _God, my suit's open!_ She struggled to zip it up while still down on the floor.

Howards was shouting at her to be on her knees and she hurried to obey. By reflex she started reciting the litany, and the anger seemed mollified somewhat. Kurt knelt besides her, his voice joining hers. She'd fallen asleep in his arms, and Howards was saying something about missing work. It must be Saturday morning. Her trainers, and the others who seemed to know Kurt huddled in the kitchen, discussing something. In her experience, when trainers went into quiet conferences, it was never a good thing.

There was a touch on her ankle, and she risked a glance at Kurt. His hands were at his sides, and his posture was stiffly upright, but… It was his tail, coiled around her, holding on desperately. She shifted her foot, so she could rub back against it. She shivered in shock and fear, and his hand moved to her, brushing his knuckles against her. She turned her hand and held his. They couldn't exactly get into any more trouble right now, so they might as well do what they could to comfort each other.

Surprisingly, the trainers didn't berate them for the contact. They simply ordered them to follow. They went to the clinic holding hands, but they were separated when they got there. Vaile took her into the exam room, and a nurse prepped her for a pelvic. She wondered what in the world they were doing that for? The doctor performed a brief internal exam, taking a scraping of her inner lining. Then she was told to dress, completely, so she put her bra on too.

In the hallway, Kurt was finishing a set of one hundred push-ups. "…Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred." His eyes sought hers as he got to his feet, and she gave him a tiny smile. They were ordered to follow again, to the Psych department this time. In the waiting room, they were made to sit on opposite sides of the room. A guard stood watch to make sure they stayed in their places.

A silent, torturous hour later, Kurt was called to a counseling room, leaving Kitty alone under the unsympathetic gaze of the guard. She sat quietly, numb to whatever would happen to her. It was Kurt she was worried about. Images of his punishment haunted her mind. It wasn't fair that her stupidity would get him in trouble, or worse…

Sudden heated voices floated down the hall, and one of them was Kurt, his voice filled with anger and despair. She fidgeted in her seat, worry for him making her frantic. Being stunned by the guard, however, was unappealing. She bit her lip and made herself stay put. Putting her face in her hands, she fought tears. She would not cry in front of them, any of them.

Kurt came out finally, every line of him expressing dejection. He sat down and wouldn't meet her eyes. She was brought to a room, and she gulped. The four trainers were here, looking at her like she was a tasty treat. Presiding over them was Major Hedrick, and behind him was an officer wearing silver stars. Unconscious authority rolled off him in waves.

The major directed her to stand before them, and he looked her up and down. "So what was it that you thought you were doing?" he said abruptly.

"We fell asleep, sir. It was an accident." Her voice was thin and cracking.

"This isn't back home, Hound, where the worst that will happen is grounding or extra chores. There are serious consequences to misbehavior here, like harsh physical punishment. Is that what you want?"

"No, sir, I would not like that."

"Yet you invite it, by flouting the rules. Not only that, but you got your… companion in trouble, too. Mr. Brestin is looking forward to a collared combat session with your paramour that he won't soon forget."

The younger of Kurt's trainers grinned wolfishly.

"Sir… it was my fault. Blame me." Her voice trembled, but she raised her chin.

The officer in the shadows snorted. The major glanced back at him, and smiled coldly. "Really now? Because that's just what he said."

Kitty's eyes widened, and her stomach performed flip-flops. He'd said it was his fault? Oh, Kurt.

"The simplest first step would be to isolate you two from each other. Your… infatuation with each other has made you blind to the realities around you. You will both endure rigorous extra training, of course."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." She felt like she was dying inside. To never again see him, or touch him… The very thought was agony unlike anything she'd ever known. It scared her how much she let herself feel for him, and how far inside her defenses he'd gotten. And yet, she could regret nothing. If she never saw him again, she would still be warmed by the memory of him.

"You tell me your version of what happened last night, for the record."

God, what happened was so personal to her. Face flaming, she tried to give a factual accounting of their actions. What she'd been feeling wasn't the point, nor was what exactly they'd said to each other. She left out only the session before the mirror, and destroying the record.

"Let me try to understand this. You both risked your lives to stay together, and all you did was fondle each other? The doctor confirmed you didn't have sex."

"We… I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was waiting for the warning, and…" Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged helplessly. Moisture stung her eyes, but she fought it. Tears were weakness, and they would only mock her for them.

"I don't get what she sees in the furry freak anyway," Brestin muttered. "Granted, she's no catch either, but jeeze, she must be some kind of slut to let a creature like him feel her up. And it's not like he was the only guy she had access to…"

Her face flushed hot again, but from anger this time. She glared down at the floor, unwilling to worsen her situation by arguing with a trainer. Rage simmered while the others idly disparaged her choices.

"Maybe it's a latent yearning for bestiality," Howards drawled finally. "She couldn't get to an animal so she picked him?"

"He's not an animal," she muttered through her teeth at the floor.

"What was that, Hound? Did you address someone?" The major said quietly.

She lifted her face to him, eyes fairly snapping sparks, her temper only barely held in check. "I said, 'he is not an animal.'"

"We are all animals, Hound," he pointed out. "Some of us are just closer to our hairy forefathers than others. However, it's nice to see a little passion in you. You've been going through the motions here, doing what you're told… barely, but your heart has not been in this."

He spread his hands wide. "Psychology is important when dealing with Hounds. A worker can be compelled to work, but a Hound has to take ownership of their job to be truly effective. It's my job to find the key that makes you do that."

She felt a prickle of fear creep over her scalp. The satisfaction in the major's tone couldn't be a good thing, for either of them.

"I'm going to spell something out for you," he said, steepling his hands. "You have no rights here. We can do what we please to any of you. Torture, mutilation, and death are the least of what we have, can and will do to Hounds in the course of our mission. Therefore, from this moment on, the responsibility for his safety and well-being is laid squarely at your feet. Your actions will determine his treatment."

"But… that's not…" She closed her mouth with a snap. Stupid, stupid!

"You were about to say, 'That's not fair'?" His lips curled up. "The first idea before me is to return him to his dorm where he will be more closely monitored. The second notion is based on my memories of how distressed he seemed on his arrival, when he thought he was going to be castrated…"

The blood drained from her face. She looked into his eyes, knowing that he knew that he had her. Even if she were never again the recipient of his desire, she would do whatever it took to make sure _that_ didn't happen. She lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Here was the crux of it, then. Would she be their murderer; for the sake of love, and for him? A quiver in her shoulders escalated into full body shudders, and she wrapped her arms around herself to keep from flying apart. In her heart, she already knew…

She would.

Still quaking, she dropped to her knees. "I belong to Shield. They own my very breath. I live at their whim; I die at their whim. I will serve them in whatever I am commanded. I belong to Shield…"

"Enough," he said. "But do you really understand that now?"

She lifted her eyes to them, and tears leaked down her cheeks. She accepted her weakness, and allowed the misery in her heart to show naked on her face. If anything, the smile on the major's face got colder. "Please, don't hurt him," she whispered brokenly.

"That, Hound, is up to you. I've seen a thousand mutants come to this carrier, and I'll tell you a little secret. They all harbor a tiny little escapist fantasy. One of those is that all this is a bad dream, and that one day they'll wake up safe at home. Or, they think somehow they'll be rescued, and they'll get to live in some fairy tale land where mutants and people can live in peace." He laughed darkly.

"You were in the former category, I think, and you just woke up. You've still been back in Chicago in your heart of hearts, where homework and chores were your biggest problems. You are not dreaming; this is your real life. Now, I think, you believe this is real. Now, you know you're a Hound."

She flinched, part of her still wanting it not to be true, but she nodded.

"You will throw yourself whole heartedly into your training. You will suggest to your trainers anything that you think of that will make you a more effective operative. And you will remember every day, that he is safe and unharmed only because of you."

"Yes, sir." Her last shred of hope had been systematically demolished.

He pressed a buzzer, and a guard entered. "Rise, Hound." She did and followed the man out the door. Kurt wasn't in the waiting room any more. She was taken to a brig cell, and locked in. It was a tiny chamber, five feet long by four feet wide. A fold up bunk used three foot of the width. The far end of the remaining space held a steel toilet. Perched above that was a small sink, that she'd have to straddle the bowl in order to reach. The hallway end of the room was made of floor to ceiling bars, eliminating any shred of privacy.

She sat, and then she pushed up the bunk and paced, and then sat again. When she couldn't hold off anymore, she used the facility, burning with humiliation. Anyone walking by would be able to see her.

What had she done? What had she promised? But she couldn't let him be hurt because of her. He was the only warm and decent thing in her life now. She cared for him. She loved him.

"That was simply masterful, major. The way you played the two of them was a joy to behold," Combs said.

"Indeed," the general said. "Well, played. Amazing how they succumbed to the same basic script."

"Thank you, sir. I must commend trainer Vaile, she might have a future in this department. But while this is a good start, it is only a start."

"What do you mean?" the general said.

"We've got to hold them in a delicate balance. In the first place, we have to make them believe that their respective sacrifices are materially benefiting the other. But, if we keep that tension up too long, without allowing them to continue developing their bond, that sacrifice might turn into resentment, and then we've lost them. It's important that we allow them to continue their relationship, however distasteful it might seem to us. It makes them emotionally vulnerable."

Howards leaned back. "Do we continue to allow them to meet at the Socials? We can either require them to stay in the Hall, or send a guard to round her up at curfew."

"I'd say so, but…" the major shook his head, frowning.

"But you don't think they're fully bonded yet, and the pressure you just applied might crack them apart," Vaile said.

The major smiled. "I knew you had a talent for this."

The general put his finger down on the table, instantly commanding their attention. "Command wants them as mission partners. You will see to it that happens."

The major sighed. "It's really a pity they didn't have sex. They're both virgin, and highly interested in each other. That sort of thing would help them bond together."

"We could wait until next time, and see if they do it…" Combs said.

"That could be too late," Vaile said immediately. "If they get bitter and disillusioned within the next month, it will be very hard to reacquire them. Or worse, they could decided that the leverage we're holding on them makes them too vulnerable, so they'll close themselves off."

"Is she correct?" the general asked.

"Yes, sir," the major said. "If we lose them now, it might be over for these two. They might not even be useful as Hounds, let alone partners."

"Then change the rules. I've already authorized an exception once for him. This incident is, in a way, the result of that decision. Here's what I have in mind…" In succinct terms he outlined his idea.

The others shook their head at the audacity of it. "It could backfire on us, sir, if the experience sours them on each other…" Howards said.

"Then that failure will be on me," the general said, shrugging. "But I didn't see a couple of casually horny teenagers today, I saw star-crossed lovers. After this evening we will know, one way or the other. Howards, Hedrick… see to the preparations. I want everything to be perfect for them." He stood up with a smile. "The fish have nibbled. It's time to set the hooks."


	13. Kurt - Amuse Me

Kurt knew he shouldn't have lost his temper, but when they insulted Kätzchen's appearance and heritage, it made him burn. Then when they were torn between making fun of his taste in females or suggesting that an animal like him was probably the best she could do, he exploded.

He sat in his tiny cell, thinking about what happened next. They seemed pleased that they cut him to the quick, and didn't speak of his flare of temper. They changed tactics then, emphasizing the trouble they were in, and speculating idly about what kind of punishment they could deal to her. He took all the blame; he had the better hearing, and he should have heard the warnings.

When the major smiled, Kurt shivered from the coldness of it. They had a plan, it seemed. Any further infraction by him would result in punishments to her. Furthermore, from now on, he was to actively assist the trainers in their efforts to mold him into a weapon. His heart was full of pain, but he gave them his vow to serve them fully, to protect her. They had his surrender, at last.

He could not, and would not, let her be hurt because of him. Love was far more worthy than selfishness, so he chose to act out of love. He looked up when they brought him his lunch. It was tasteless fare, worse than usual, but he ate it without really noticing. He wondered where she was, and what they were doing to her.

The day stretched on and he fought to stay alert. Months on end of ten hours activity a day made this enforced idleness just another form of torture. The little room was too small to really move around in, so he amused himself by walking across the floor, crawling up the wall, crossing the ceiling and down the other wall, but it got old fast.

When they brought him dinner, he was so full of nervous energy that he'd been doing exercises just to burn some of it off. Dinner was a little better than lunch, about the quality they served in the dining rooms. As soon as he slid his empty tray out past the bars, they came for him. They took him to an end hallway, and he saw Kitty as they led her from the other direction.

The room they were brought to boasted a large table and a broad dark window along one wall. The same group of people was there from earlier. This time the general was in the center, and he smiled unkindly. "It has taken a good deal of time to devise an appropriate activity to assign for the two of you. I've come up with an idea that I think is just perfect, but not all my subordinates agree. Major; your objection is noted, and I'm glad we could come to an agreement. Agent Brestin, you are excused."

"Thank you, sir," Brestin said. "It was an excellent dinner, and it'd be a shame to spoil it."

"Your loss," the general said, and he gave the two Hounds a long searching look. "Are the two of you aware of your respective religious backgrounds?"

"_Jawohl_, sir," Kurt said. Kitty nodded.

"And you," he said to Kitty, smirking. "Did you know he's uncircumcised?"

"Um. No, sir, I did not," she said, her face red.

Combs chuckled. "And you gave him a hand job?"

She looked down, and then answered the question. "I didn't see him, sir, and even if I had… I wouldn't have known the difference. Sir."

The general flipped a switch, and the lights came on in the next room, visible now through the window. It was made of brushed metal; it covered the floor, the walls and ceiling. A steel chair was bolted to the floor near the wall, festooned with loose straps. The most prominent object was a thinly padded metal bunk also bolted to the floor near the far wall that also featured an array of dangling straps and bindings.

"That is an interrogation room. Subjects who are less than forthcoming in this interview room are taken there, where more… _persuasive_ methods are employed. That room will see use, tonight."

She took in a quick breath, and his tail lashed behind him. Would he be made to watch them torture her? _Ach, nein_…

After a long tense moment, the general finally broke his silence. "The two of you will go into that room, you will undress, and have sex. We will observe your performance here, so be sure to entertain us."

Kurt's jaw dropped, his tail stiffening with shock.

"I don't believe this…" Kitty whispered.

"Believe it. Your… hormones got you into this mess, so you will take each other's virginity before an audience. Look at it this way, Nightcrawler, think what an act this would be at the circus? The blue-furred gentile demon deflowering the young Jewess…" He broke into cruel laughter.

"Your jobs will be to amuse me. Perform well, and certain benefits may become available to you. Fail to entertain us… and the results to both of you will be dire. So, a lot rides on your efforts to please." He laughed again at his unintentional joke.

Kurt glanced at Kitty. Her face was red and expressionless, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. His face was also hot under the fur.

The major stood. "My department is concerned about the damage this… performance might cause, so I have arranged a measure of privacy for you." He started a record player that held several albums on the spindle. "There is a direct comm channel between the rooms, but if you speak quietly, you will be unheard by us. However, you will be able to hear directions should you seem to be at a loss of what to do."

At a signal, the guard escorted them through the adjoining door. He left them alone in the room, and through the intercom, they heard another door shut soon after, over the music. The window went dark, but he could feel the eyes on them. The general's voice came then. "Undress her, slowly."

Kurt faced her, tilting his head a little away from the watchers. "I'm sorry, Kätzchen," he said softly. He brushed a few short strands of hair from her face, and then took hold of her zipper. Slowly he dragged it down, past her bra, past her belly button, all the way down to the end just above the broad elastic at her waist.

He reached for her neckline, brushing her collar wide, out to her shoulders. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and he couldn't tell if her trembling was from fear, humiliation, or anger. He thought perhaps it was from a little of all three. He pulled the top off her shoulders, and down her arms so it hung at her waist. His own body was already eager for her, something he was bitterly aware of.

He put his fingers inside her suit's waistband, and crouched down, taking it down to her ankles. Only then did he realize she was still wearing her boots. He pushed at the suit so he could reach her laces, and untied them. First he removed one boot, then the other. The suit was slipped off her, one leg at a time.

He took her socks off, realizing he could smell her musky sex. His nose was about level with her revealed panties… the same ones she'd worn when they were 'making out' the night before. He straightened up and moved behind her, unclasping her stiff bra with a little bit of fumbling. Coming in front of her again, he drew it off her shoulders and off of her. Her hands came up to cover her breasts, and he heard a quiet sob.

He put his hand on her neck, drawing her forehead to his. "Shhh, _liebchen_. This is me, and I love you," he whispered.

Her eyes looked into his, pained and tense. "Kurt… I love you, too… But this…" one of her hands moved to gesture stiffly.

"This must be. Trust me, Kätzchen. I will be loving."

She nodded, and he leaned back. He reached for her panties, and pushed them down her long legs. He could see the curly brown thatch they had hidden, as she leaned her hand on his head and stepped out of them. He couldn't resist taking a deep breath in, and running his hands up her; legs, hips and sides as he stood again. She was so beautiful.

"Now, do the same to him," came the general's voice.

She reached for his zipper, her hand visibly trembling. In tugs and starts, she got it down, and then froze. He lifted her hands to his collar, and thus prompted, she mechanically took his top off, but her eyes were glazing, becoming distant. She was retreating the only way she could. He turned to the window, gesturing at her blank face. "If we may have a moment to speak? This is overwhelming her."

"Very well, but make it quick. You don't want me to get bored."

He took her in his arms, and turned his back to the watchers. Leaning in, he kissed her softly. "Stay with me Kätzchen, please. I don't want them to hurt you. _Ach_, I couldn't bear it if they hurt you." He claimed her mouth again, and this time she responded, kissing him back and opening her mouth. Her arms came up to his neck, and when the kiss ended, she was there behind her eyes again.

"I… I don't want them to hurt y… you… either," she stuttered.

"I must ask you something, Kätzchen. It is important." She nodded, confused, but curious.

"If… if we could… would you marry me? Be my wife?" His eyes gleamed as he searched hers.

"M… Marry? Here? Kurt, we're too young..." Now she looked wholly confused.

"Ah, throughout most of history, we would have already been married at our ages. Just answer me, _mein liebe_. Would you… _will you_ marry me?" He stroked her face with gentle fingers.

"If we could… If they let us… Yes, I would. I will. Yes." Tears ran down her face, and she leaned her face against his shoulder.

He fairly thrummed with joy. She said yes! His eyes burned into hers. "Listen to me, _liebe_. Marriage is between a man, a woman, and God. No one else. Ignore them. They are no longer important. Love me now with a clear conscious, _mein_ betrothed. If you focus on pleasing me, as I will on pleasing you, despite our circumstances, then that is the most we can do. It will simply have to be enough for them. _Ja_?"

She frowned, thinking. Her hands ran through the fur of his chest absently, as she processed this concept of his. Her eyes brightened, and the ghost of a smile curled her lips. "_Ja, mein _Kurt_, mein elf_…" Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and she leaned into a passionate, eager kiss that thrilled him to his toes and his tail-tip.

His tail came up around her bare waist, and she unwrapped it gently. She reached for his waistband, and slid the suit over his hips, stopping midway down his thighs while his tail pulled itself free. His white boxers were straining at the front, and she spared them a glance before pulling the suit the rest of the way down. He had no footwear to get in the way, so it was easy for him to slip it off.

She looked back up from his feet, and steeled herself visibly. She reached for his shorts, and carefully eased them down past his hardness. Her eyes just studied him for a moment, taking in the purpling flesh and the rounded scrotum behind it. He gave a little smile. Her fascinated expression was so… endearing. "Kätzchen, the boxers…?" he said.

She started in surprise, and flushed. "Sorry." Briskly she drew them down, and he stepped out of them. He reached a hand down and helped her stand. They both stared unabashed, looking at each other with hungry expressions.

He put his fingers under her chin, smiling into her eyes. Her mouth quirked. "'Sokay," she said. "I won't leave you now. We're in this together."

"Together," he agreed, and scooped her up in his arms. He put her on the bunk, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against him. He joined her, instinctively placing himself with his back to the window, blocking the view.

"Ahem," the general said over the comm. Kurt sighed and moved to her other side. His mouth tightened in a thin line as he realized the visual they made; her pale pink form silhouetted against the midnight blue of his body.

She reached up, tangling her fingers in his wavy hair, drawing him down to her. He gave her a hot kiss, and then his eyes narrowed to slits as he rained kisses onto her face, her neck, and her chest. Her hands roamed over the silky fur of his back and shoulders, ruffling the nap, and scritching gently through to the skin underneath. He caressed her breasts, the incongruous pink of his tongue searching for her nipples. She groaned softly, just for him.

His tail curled over him and stroked up and down her legs, tickling lightly and squeezing her. She giggled. "Bad elf. No tickles." He looked up, fangs bared in a wicked grin, chin covered in saliva from his suckling. She grabbed his tail and used the end to wipe his chin.

He allowed her to, and then pulled it from her grasp, snorting in amusement. "Don't bother _liebchen_, it'll just happen again. If fact…" He licked his lips and smiled. "Might as well give them something to watch." With that, he wriggled down her body, rapidly running out of room. He sat up, stroking her flat belly, assessing the situation.

Kurt hopped off the bunk and stood at the end. "Move down to me," he said, and put his hands on her knees, putting gentle pressure on them to part. She moved towards him, and let him spread her legs. She was trembling again, but her eyes were shining with trust, and need. When she was where he wanted her, he squeezed her knees, and leaned down.

First he craned his head up and kissed and licked at her belly button. Then he moved his mouth downwards. Long, wet licks moistened her lower belly, and then traveled through her pubic hair. He breathed her scent in deep, his nose literally buried in her thatch, shivering all over with desire. He put a reverent kiss on the lips of her sex, then started licking.

He was glad that his life among the gypsies made him more conversant with female erotic anatomy then she seemed to be with the male variety. Well, at least in theory, he was. He'd heard some racy exploits and tales from the older men with his keen hearing, and had even managed to watch a couple of trysts from the vantage of a tree fork. The practical experience was proving to be beyond what he'd ever imagined, though. He'd always thought the frantic movements and urgent noises to be funny, but no longer. After last night, he knew he was equally as capable of being reduced to a whimpering ball of want by what they were doing.

He found the little nub of her clitoris easily enough, and settled down to the pleasure of making her writhe and moan under his devouring tongue. His hands rubbed along the inside of her thighs, up across her belly and under her to cup and squeeze her bottom.

After a bit of this, he wasn't entirely sure Kitty even remembered they were being watched, her reactions were so uninhibited. Her hands came down to clutch his hair, and she called his name when she shuddered and bucked under his mouth. He lightened the pressure he was giving her, helping her to finish her orgasm. She sighed and dropped her head back, every muscle relaxed.

In a flash, he was up beside her again, holding her tightly. He found himself pressing his arousal against her hip, rocking in his need. She turned her face to him and gave him a languorous smile. She took a deep breath, and slid her hand down his body, playing with the nap all the way. She wrapped her hand around him, and he hissed his approval. She levered herself up, and tugged on him gently.

"Hey! That is not a handle, Kätzchen."

She chuckled. "Sit on the edge, and hang on, love." She got up off the bunk and gathered their scattered clothing, bundling them on the floor between his legs as he sat where she directed. She kneeled on this improvised cushion, and put her hands on his thighs. Her back was to the window, and she looked up and whispered softly, "Love you, fuzzy."

He smiled down at her and then watched, amazed as she lowered her head to his groin, kissing the head of his cock. Her tongue licked out and stroked along his shaft; tasting him, and drawing deep moans from him. She held him at his base and sucked him into her mouth, laving him with her tongue. He put his hands on her shoulders, and stroked her neck with his thumbs.

She could take about half of him in her mouth, but from what he'd heard and seen, that was pretty good for her first time. Her other hand came up and gently squeezed his balls. His tail snaked around her body, flicking and stroking her nipples, his feet gripping her hips and drawing her closer. A tingling began at the base of his spine, traveling up his back and down his tail.

"Kätzchen, get ready… Ah!" She didn't move her mouth away, but she couldn't manage all of what he fired into it, either. She swallowed some, and the rest dripped from her mouth. She looked up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. She plucked his boxers from under her knee and wiped her chin.

She rose, cocking her hip saucily to the side and leaning on his shoulders. "Now, we're even," she whispered. With an effort, he kept looking into her eyes instead of her breasts, so tantalizingly near his face. She leaned down and kissed him warmly, their respective flavors mingling on their tongues. It was a long, deep kiss, and when it ended they were both breathless.

She winked at him, mischief radiating from her eyes. She didn't even have to say it; and they both burst into quiet laughter at the unspoken word that hung between them. He nuzzled her breasts. "I didn't think you'd do that," he said. "I didn't think anyone would ever do that for me."

"Never say never, lover," she said. "And you did it for me, it was only fair."

"Ah, but you were delicious." He licked his lips and grinned at her blush.

"Well, the natives are probably getting restless. Shall we get on with the main event, love?"

He snatched her hand, and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles, and then to her palm. "Of course." He was glad his proposal helped her to find her center. What she would have resisted doing with a mere boyfriend was acceptable with a fiancé.

He'd also felt uncomfortable going this far without a more formal relationship between them. But with their promise, with her simple 'yes', everything had changed. He felt a sense of sanctity about them, and a bond beyond anything he'd ever known. If he were to lose his life, he would die knowing her for his wife, even after only these few moments.

He stood, pressing close to her, his arms wrapped around her. Putting his lips close to her face, he said softly, "Kitty… I have to know… Did you understand what I meant, and did you… did you really mean it?"

She looked him in the eyes. "I know what you meant, and I meant the same. With or without anyone's permission, Kurt, I've joined my life to yours. Whatever happens, I will have known the love of a husband… and I would have chosen you, even in a better world. Is that what you wanted to know?"

He gave a joyous smile. "_Ja, meine Frau_. In my heart, we are already one." He lifted her up and once more put her on the bunk, taking his place on her far side as she whispered her answer.

"And in mine, Kurt. And in mine."


	14. Kitty - Song of Songs

Kurt was amazing. In one quiet question, he took an impossible situation and made it okay for her. They might not have a future together… they might not have a future at all… but right here and right now, this was their wedding night, and no torment or mocking watchers was going to keep her from it.

Between the time that she said yes, and when he asked her if she meant it, she thought about her answer. Almost immediately she knew how very serious the matter was to him. Nearly as soon, she realized how serious it was for her. Without the strength he gave her with his name… and what was his last name anyway? Without that strength, she would have failed this test… for both of them.

His faith was founded on the ideals of her people, and she knew that both religions taught that marriage was forever. As he laid her once again on the rude pallet that was their wedding bed she quivered in fear and excitement. Be damned if she would have done this for merely their amusement, but damned if she would NOT do this, for her husband.

The music played over the comm as he lay beside her. She turned into him and burrowed into his embrace. She wanted this, she wanted him, but the fear of it all still gripped her. He stroked her and murmured encouragements in English and German. Gradually, so gradually she didn't notice as first, his kisses and his touch turned towards arousing her. His touch of his hands was thrilling to her; so confident they were on her body.

He nipped her and breathed in her ear, running his hands firmly over her, learning her by touch. He leaned down to her chest again, and gave her breasts nearly his full attention. The little bit left over resided in his tail, which slithered up to tease and stroke between her lower lips. She cried out in sensation, only aware of a triangle of fire burning in her body; her nipples, connected to each other, and each to her clitoris.

He gave a low laugh that vibrated through her. She looked down, drinking in the sight of him trying so hard to please her. His eyes glanced up, and the hot suns of his eyes warmed her clear through. The feel of his fur against her was heavenly, and she wriggled against him just to revel in it.

He helped her build up to a quiet orgasm, and then switched his caresses. A damp tail came up to flick against her nipple, and his free hand sought for her wetness. His fingers felt differently there. They were warmer than his tail, but not as warm as his mouth. He continued the steady attention to her pleasure, but a finger also worked on stretching her entrance.

A thrum of anticipation went through her. This was the real deal, not the fumbling games they'd been playing up to now. In finding, and pressing into her entrance he communicated to her how close their consummation was. Patiently he kept at it, and looked up. "Tell me if this hurts, Kätzchen."

"Okay," she whispered. "Mm, that feels good."

"You know that it will hurt, some, when I… enter you?"

"I know. But I'm… looking forward to it. To you."

He lifted his mouth to hers, their tongues dancing together. "As am I." He leaned up to get a better angle, and firmly pushed his thick fingertip into her. The tight muscles stretched around him, and he pumped shallowly into her for a little bit.

"Oh," she breathed, her eyes wide and her hand clutching his silky shoulder.

He froze, his face anxious. "Does it hurt?"

"No… Just… feels different. Different than anything. Don't stop."

"As you say, _mein liebe_." The gentle penetrations were performed with sweeps of his thumb over her clit, his face frowning in concentration.

Her body clenched him tightly in a sharp spasm of ecstasy that took her by surprise. "Oh. Much better than wow," she said when she caught her breath.

His body trembled in restraint, and she felt a little scorched from the heat of the longing in his eyes. His erection was rock hard against her, and he was drawing in deep breaths, his nostrils flared wide. He was soaking in her scent, and he liked it.

She swallowed, and tugged on his shoulder. "It's time."

He tensed even more. "Are you sure?" His voice was shaking.

She laughed quietly. "I think so, but you're gonna pop a blood vessel if you don't do something soon."

He moved between her legs, and she spread them wide for him. His eyes were wide and his tail lashed the air. His manhood was a darker purple than before, and it looked to be so stiff it hurt.

"Love me," she whispered. He leaned down, trying hard to control his eagerness. Taking himself in hand, he slid the head along her moistness, and then aimed it into her. He bit his lower lip, and applied steady pressure inward. His penis was thicker than his finger, and she stretched again around him. God, he was in her, this was it. Just a little further now…

He pushed in, and she felt a little twinge of something other than stretching. "You're there."

He nodded jerkily, and partly withdrew. Before she had a chance to complain, he spoke softly. "It is best done quickly. Are you ready?"

Was she ready? She was, but she wasn't, but don't tell him that. "Yes."

He took a breath and plunged in, tearing sharply through her hymen. Tears sprang from her eyes, and her knees squeezed on his sides, halting him. "Gimme a moment," she hissed. Gentle hands wiped the tears away. "Better," she said. "Getting better." Her legs loosened again, and her hands pulled him closer. With a bit of bravado, she smiled, or tried to. "Come on, lover, show me what you've got."

He pulled back and then pushed in again, with a far gentler motion. The pain was a distant burning sensation, rapidly being eclipsed by the pleasure of his presence. He started a steady rhythm, and she found herself rocking along with him, moving in counter to his thrusts.

The fur on his arms and chest was damp with sweat, and his eyes were golden slits. "_Ich liebe dich_, Kätzchen. _Sie sind wundervoll_." He put his hands under her legs, and pushed them up higher, rocking her pelvis up and changing the angle of his penetrations.

There was no pain, now. She felt like she was flying. They were making love and it felt fantastic. The gentle scrape and pull of his velvet-covered body between her thighs was good. His hardness moving deep inside her was even better. Even the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to control his mounting urgency was exhilarating.

"Is it… good?" he said gruffly. She felt his tail thrash across her legs.

"Oh, yesssss," she purred. His jaw gaped in a salacious grin at her tone, and he sped up. A hot/cold flash stole over her, and started burning along her nerves. "Oh God! Kurt…" She came, clamping down on him hard, then pulsing around him. He let out an inarticulate groan as his release followed quickly after.

They panted, still straining together, striving for a moment more to become a single being. Then it was over, leaving them gasping and drained. He was whispering to her, and she understood only words here and there. 'Love', and 'I', and 'Kitten', all mixed up with a soft torrent of German that sounded like sweet music to her.

"I love you, Kurt. I love you," she whispered back. He slipped out of her, and lay besides her again. His tail reached down and grabbed his sacrificial boxers, and carefully, gently, he cleaned her off, then himself and the bunk padding. The undergarments were spotted and streaked with traces of pink when he finished, and he dropped them carelessly over the side.

He pulled her over on top of him, and held her closely. He stroked her and kissed her with a gentleness that faded into slumber. She was happy to have his love, his presence and his touch. She started drifting off, too. She spared a thought for the observers, the first time she'd thought of them in a while. The music wasn't playing anymore, and the intercom light was out. Humph. Good riddance…

The general turned to Major Hedrick, after the two of them dropped into sleep. "Opinions?"

"Oh. Um, that will help their bonding, quite a bit. I was afraid that she was going to withdraw again, but he took care of the problem. Whatever he said to her after that seemed to cure her of the tendency."

"I can read lips," Combs said, "but they faced away a lot of the time they were talking."

"Do you believe it's important?" the general asked.

"No. They're Hounds, how important could it be?"

"Someone needs to stay and watch, but the rest of us can go," the general said as he stood. No one mentioned his condition, but he wasn't the only one in the room displaying signs of vicarious arousal.

"I'll stay," Hedrick said. "I've some notes to write up on your… experiment. Are her things here already? Good."

The other flushed watchers filed out of the room. The major looked over at the sleeping young couple. "This next step should be interesting."

Her bed was hard and lumpy. She reached up for her pillow, and found a furry arm under her head. She opened her eyes. She'd have to amend that. The bed was hard, and Kurt was lumpy. She'd slipped off his chest while they napped, and now was snuggled beside him, neither of them wearing a stitch.

Now that her body wasn't singing in ecstasy, she was aware of some new aches and pains. The ones inside her she could understand, but what was with her inner thighs? Apparently, being spread that way stretched her leg muscles in a new way, because they hurt.

She thought maybe he'd nipped one of her breasts a little too hard, because she found a scratch she didn't have before. Ah, the perils of a husband with fangs.

Husband. Yes. He was her husband. She was his wife. A smile curled her lips and she began to nibble on his chin and jaw line. She'd just reached his ear when his eyes opened.

"_Wuff?_" he said sleepily, his hands rising to fend her off.

"Do you really want to do that?" she breathed into his pointed ear.

He froze, and breathed in deeply. "Kätzchen," he murmured. His eyes focused, and he smiled at her. He leaned forward and kissed her. "A much better awakening than last time, _ja_?"

"Speak for yourself, lover. I hurt all over… but I'm okay," she hastened to add when his face turned almost comic in concern.

"Are you alright, _liebe_? I tried not to hurt you…"

"I'll live. Besides the… inside, I have some pretty sore muscles, and this…" She showed him the scratch, and he immediately bent to kiss it.

"I'm sorry about this. I should have been more careful."

The door to the adjoining room opened slightly, and they stiffened. The major's voice came in to them. "Please get dressed." They got up and fumbled into their clothes. Kurt skipped his stained boxers, stuffing them into the thigh pocket.

Kitty took longer to dress. Her legs shook with fatigue when she put weight on them and bending over hurt. A lot. He helped her pick up her clothes, and he sat and put her socks on for her while she got her bra and suit top pulled on. She got her boots on, but only lightly laced them, stuffing the excess strings inside.

She limped into the other room with him. The major observed her movements. "Do you need to visit the clinic?"

"I don't think so, sir," she said. "I think it's mostly strain."

"Very well, follow me, both of you." He led them to the hall, where a familiar battered hand truck waited, loaded with a trunk and some boxes. "If you'd take that, Nightcrawler?" He took them through the carrier, and soon Kitty started recognizing places. This was the way to Kurt's quarters.

They stopped outside his door. "From now on you will be sharing quarters with him. The two of you are excused from work tomorrow, both shifts. She will report to the clinic Monday morning if she still feels unable to work by then. Otherwise, she has duty with her laundry detail. Besides that, the standard rules now apply to both of you. Dinner is in the dining hall, but your other meals may be here. Allow extra time to go to and from anywhere in the upper decks. Any questions?"

Kurt said no, and she shook her head, bouncing a little, with a wince. She was going to stay with him, here? How did she get so lucky? The major left, and they watched until the elevator doors shut on him. Kurt turned and kissed her, and with great ceremony, he carried her over his doorstep. Then he put her down and brought in the truck.

"Draw a hot bath, _liebe_. That will be just the thing to soak those aches of yours. I'll get things put away."

"Oh, you're a life saver. I'm starting to feel like a creaky old lady." She held onto the wall, and moved to the bathroom, after he carried her trunk past the sheet/curtain. She started the water, and got it filling while he rummaged in the hall closet and carried in extra towels while she was trying to undress. He put them down and assisted her.

He smiled at her. "You certainly don't look like an old lady." He helped her settle in to the tub, and she sighed with relief. He undressed, and put a folded towel on the tub side at the tap end. He sat on it, facing her, perching comfortably on the edge, his legs stretched out, and his feet gripping for balance. He smiled as she soaked in a warm silence. His tail trailed in the water, making little currents around her.

"You keep smiling like that, and your face is going to hurt," she said after a while. It was probably about time to actually wash, anyway.

"I can't help it, I am so happy you are here, and they are allowing us to be together. I don't trust the reasons why, but I don't want to think about it just now."

"Me neither. Gotta have some dastardly plot in mind. They're Shield."

"_Ja_. It's in the job description, I think." His tail end slid around her knee, making curling motions. "I'm sorry you hurt so much."

She shrugged and started washing. "It's the way God made us. Makes us think twice about getting involved in sex before we're ready. I feel better after this soak, love. The strain will ease, and the inside will heal. Your turn."

She levered herself up, and she did feel a lot better. She got out of the bath, and he took her place, handing her the towel he'd sat on. He didn't linger, just washed quickly and got out again. They helped each other dry off, more or less, chuckling when their respective efforts proved to be more of a hindrance than a help, especially on her part. Apparently, there was an art to drying a full body coat of fur.

His belly growled when he was mostly dry, and her hands were shaking. "We need to eat something," he said, steering her into the kitchen.

"I had dinner, and I'm not hungry," she complained.

"You're body needs fuel, whether you feel it or not. That's what the shaking hands mean." He frowned, looking off. "You have low blood sugar."

"Where did you learn that?" she said. She sat wrapped in a towel at his… at _their_ kitchen table, as he rummaged through the fridge, feeling a twisted sense of déjà vu.

"I was an aerialist and an athlete. Those who stress the body for a living need to know how to properly care for it." He poured juice and pressed the glass into her hands, then poured some for himself. He put two pears on the table and made two quick meat and cheese sandwiches. "Fruit, for quick energy, and the sandwich for sustained stability."

She sipped the juice, and then finished it thirstily. She picked up the pear and took a bit. "What, no apples?" She smiled at him mischievously.

He answered with a serious smile. "Not this week, although from you… pomegranates would be better, O fairest among women." He stroked a hand from her temple to her shoulder.

Ouch. "Kurt, stop it. Don't tease me." She looked away, her eyes stinging from unshed tears.

He flowed around the table to meet her eyes, staring into her. "I do not tease. I speak from the eyes of my heart. Solomon said it rightly: _'Behold thou art fair, my love. Behold, thou art fair.'_ Look in my eyes, Kätzchen. I speak the simple truth."

She looked. His whole posture expressed his earnestness, and there was only warmth and love in his golden eyes. She lowered her gaze.

"I know you don't understand it, _liebe_. But no more do I understand why you love me, despite… this." He gestured at himself. "I merely accept the happy fact that you do, with humble gratitude. You have accepted my love, and my hand in marriage. Please accept my ardent admiration."

"All right, Kurt," she managed a smile for him. "I thought you had better taste, though."

He grinned at her. "Are you fishing for another compliment? But, I wouldn't know about my taste. You, however, taste excellently." He licked his lips.

"Kurt!" she said flushing. Then she remembered something. "Kurt, what's your last name?"

"Hm? Wagner, like the composer. Kurt Wagner. Why?"

"Wagner." She pronounced the 'w' like a 'v' the way he did. "Just wanted to tasted it on my tongue. Kurt and Katherine Wagner."

He smiled, cocking his head to the side. She sighed. "It's a girl thing, I guess. Since we change our name when we marry, we like to test what it sounds like. This sounds good."

"Yes it does. Kätzchen Wagner. That sounds very good. But if I may ask, what was your maiden name?"

Pryde. P-R-Y-D-E. My name was Kitty Pryde."

"Okay. _Frau_ Wagner, eat your sandwich." His tail-tip pushed it closer to her.

"_Jawohl_, _meister_? Wagner… Is that right?" He play-frowned at her and she hurriedly took a big bite, trying not to choke as she giggled around it. She swallowed and kept eating.

"_Herr_ Wagner would be the appropriate address,_liebe_. I'm not your master."

She nodded, and finished. She put her plate in the sink, and was caught by surprise by a huge yawn.

He came up behind her and put his arms around her. "Time for bed,_mein liebe_?" He kissed her neck.

She turned in his grasp, and the towel fell from her. "I guess I am," she said, and danced naked from his arms, leaving him holding the cloth. He growled, dropping it, and stalked after her.

She passed the curtain and was met by a curious sight. The near half of the room bore the homey little touches of someone living there, but the far side looked abandoned; neat, but unused. That was all she had a chance to see before he snatched her off the ground and tossed her onto the bed.

She squeaked, and was pounced on by a naked furry elf. He wrapped her in his arms, growling softly, as they squirmed under the covers and cuddled close.

She thought he was touching her breasts when she fell asleep…


	15. Kurt - With this string

His Kätzchen was a very tired woman last night. They had barely settled in bed when she fell fast asleep. When his gentle advances produced no reaction, he resigned himself that two wonderful experiences would be it for the day. But there was always the next day to look forward to. He could get used to living like this.

Her sweet form was snuggled up to him when he woke early in the morning. He lay still, watching her breath, remembering the joy that filled his heart when she accepted his proposal. It was hard to believe he'd found such happiness in this place of torment. Her dark eyes opened, and sought his. Her arms came around his neck and she met his mouth with hers. His hands roamed over her and she wriggled pleasantly against him. "How are you feeling this morning?" he said.

She pulled away, reluctantly, and got up. "Let me see." She did some stretches and bends with barely a wince, while he watched her avidly. "I'm still a little sore in my middle and thighs, but exercise will probably take care of that." She looked over at him, noticing the tenting of the sheet, and smiled. "Just what you had in mind, huh?"

"_Ja!_" He flicked the sheet out of the way and reached for her. He felt insatiable around her, like she was as necessary to his continued existence as the air he breathed. Now that they were unobserved, he spent a long time exploring her body, needing to know every part of her. She cooperated, giggling at his absorbed expression and trying not to flinch when he inadvertently tickled her.

When he finished, she dug her heel into the mattress for leverage and pushed him onto his back. "Your turn, Fuzzy!" She took her time, he hands running over him, feeling the development of his muscles and seeming to catalog all the place he appeared sensitive. The final straw for him was when her expedition encountered the base of his tail.

He was lying on his belly, and she'd worked her hands up from the tailtip, to the base. He jumped when her fingers absently stroked the fur just under where it grew out of his spine. As he panted, she did it again, harder this time. Curling her hand tight at the very base, she drew it down the firmly first foot or so of his tail, and something inside him snapped.

Growls rumbled from deep in his chest. He writhed from under her and firmly pinned her down. Flaring yellow eyes stared into startled brown. He bent his head down and bit her neck, just shy of breaking the skin. The purring growls continued, but he managed to speak around them. "Rrrrr. If you, ah… rrRRrr, touch me therre… like _that…_ Rrrr. Then, Kätzchen, therre arre… RRrrrRRR, consequences…" His tail slipped up her leg to the juncture of her thighs.

"Whoa, love," she said laughing, as he nipped and bit at her chin, and ears, as well as her neck. "I think I found your 'on' switch." She was already damp, and with the touches of his tail at her entrance she was fast becoming sopping wet.

He pressed his lips to her, claiming her tongue, and sweeping his over the surfaces of her mouth. Some part of him wondered at her calm laughter… Why wasn't she afraid of him when _he_ almost was at the way he was acting? "Rrrrr… You'rre not afrraid?"

Her eyes held his. "Kurt, you would never hurt me, I know this. And I wanna see what happens when we just… let it rip." A finger traced down his spine, to his tail, and she gave him a gentle grip there.

"RRRrrr…" His blood roared in his ears, and he levered her legs apart. He pressed himself at her entrance, and pushed steadily in with a deep groan of need. He spared a bare moment to see if she was alright. When she pulled him closer, urging him on, he gave into the raging desire her touch had aroused. He was distantly dismayed he could be capable of such a feral display of passion, or rather, of lust. But, he knew that she'd walked into it with her eyes open. He'd given her fair warning, after all.

There was no finesse to this raw coupling, but she gave as good as she got. She bit and clawed back at him as she rose to meet his pounding thrusts. She muffled her scream of ecstasy around a bite-full of his furry shoulder, and his howl of completion echoed and re-echoed off the walls of the room. He collapsed on her, the effort to breath tearing at his raw throat. When his brain began to function again, a sense of shame crept in. What had he done to her, and to them?

She stroked through his hair, following the line of his ear on his scalp. She kneaded his neck and shoulders; all the while making happy little hums and sighs. In finally penetrated his mind that she wasn't at all upset with him. He moved off to lie beside her.

"K… Kätzchen?" He looked at her, his eyes confused and guilty.

"Shh, lover. It's okay." Her mouth was soft and seeking under his. "God, that was intense. What a ride!" She grinned at him.

"But… I was… _Mein Gott_, I acted like the beast they say I am. I'm ashamed, _liebe_, I could have hurt you. All I could think of was my pleasure."

"Lover, I'll tell you a secret. My mom reads romances, and I've read a few. Getting it a little bit rough is a big, big turn on, if we trust the guy who's doing it implicitly, and I trust you. They'd have to give you a lobotomy before you'd ever hurt me. I have absolutely no complaints. That was way good for me." She chuckled. "I wouldn't want it like that every time, but… wow!"

He looked into her happy eyes, and felt his guilt dissipate. But still… "I don't know if you're sick for liking that, or if I'm just oversensitive," he said finally.

"Neither, or a little of both. I don't know. Just trust yourself, like I trust you."

"Losing control frightened me. What if you had needed me to stop, and I was too far-gone to listen?" He laid his head on her shoulder.

"You would have in a heartbeat, love. You don't give yourself enough credit. Search yourself, and see what I see in your eyes.'

He tried to imagine himself hurting her, or even being indifferent to her pain, and drew a blank. He'd rather gnaw his own arm off, and she'd known this of him before he did. He sighed. "You have such faith in me, Kätzchen. I hope I am worthy."

"You are more than worthy, husband. I've placed my life in your hands."

"As you hold mine in yours. _Ach_, you are better for me than I deserve."

"Okay. Let's not have the 'who's worthy' argument, 'cuz it could go on all day."

"Still, I'm sorry the way I acted. I… want it to always be good for you."

"It was more than good for me. And I hope you're not sorry enough to never do it like that again," she smiled slyly, and started slowly, running a finger down his spine…

He moved like a serpent, slipping out of her encircling arm and teasing hand, and pinned her under him, glaring into her brown eyes. "I forbid you to do that again, my wife!" He watched her expression turn stricken, before he allowed a tiny smile to curl his lips. "Unless we are in agreement, and you really mean it. That is fair, _ja_?"

She stared at him blankly before thumping a fist on his chest. "You are a mean, cruel man! Forbidding me like that." She glared at him.

"It is more a matter of personal respect, _liebe_. Triggering my 'on switch' as you say, should be mutually consented to."

Her glare subsided. "Still it's not fair, abusing your husbandly authority…"

He laughed. "Little minx! Who was abusing whom, with your wandering hand?" He shared a lingering kiss with her. "Now wait, and I'll fix breakfast."

He got up and stretched, and as he left he heard her say, "A man who cooks… how lucky is that?"

Breakfast was simple, but filling. They ate together in silence, just enjoying the company. He kept looking over at her, to see if she was still there, or if it was some kind of wonderful dream. He caught her doing the same thing. When they finished, he cleared the dishes, and held out his hand to her. Time to use the other things he'd prepared along with breakfast.

"Come to the couch with me." She followed him and sat watching him. He had his twine on the spool-table, and a pair of scissors. He cut a piece off that was about four inches long, and a second one that was a few inches longer.

"We cannot have a formal wedding of any faith while in this place, but we can still be married. The old folks in Germany remembered what it was like under the Nazis, or heard tales from people of faith in Communist Russia. In times of oppression, prisoners must make their own way."

He took the shorter length of string in his hand. "Give me your left hand." She extended it to him. He tied the string with a snug square knot around her ring finger, and then turned it until the loose ends were at her palm. "With this string, I thee wed." She chuckled at his pun, but her eyes shone with tears. "Keep this with you, _liebe_. If someone asks, you wear it to remember something. If you can't wear it, stuff it in your pocket. If you lose it, that's okay, I have more twine."

He gave her the longer piece, and held out his left hand. She hesitated, and tied it around the outer finger. She slid the string around. "With this string, I thee wed," she said softly. "But what are our vows?"

"I promise to love and cherish you, all the days of my life. I will care for you, and respect you, as I would myself."

"I will love you, and honor you, until death do us part. I promise to respect your well-being and opinions as I would my own." Tears leaked down her cheeks.

He clasped her hands with his, and closed his eyes. "May the God of Abraham, and of Jesus bless our union. We glorify you, O Lord, in whatever we do." He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his sorrow was plain to hear. "There… there may not be children, _Gott_, but may this marriage bear the fruit of Love. Amen." He bowed his head further, and wept.

She moved to him, flinging her arms around him, and they cried together, for the misery that was their now, and for the joys that would never be. When they got themselves under control again, she sniffled and said. "You may kiss the bride."

"_Dankeshoen, mein Frau_." He lifted her chin and kissed her, thoroughly and long. "There. Do you feel married now? Because I do."

"Yeah…" she said. "And thank you, for always remembering… my faith."

"There is so much in common, _liebe_, it is easy. And I could have done worse. My Savior's mother was a nice Jewish girl." He smiled at her and she chuckled again.

"You're not…" she started to say, then changed it. "Are you going to ask me to convert?"

"Are you going to ask me? I wasn't planning on it, Kätzchen. You grew up in a Christian nation. I'm sure you've had lots of opportunities if you wanted one. I won't insult you by preaching salvation at you, unless you want me to."

She gave him a tentative look. "Would you mind adding some Jewish traditions?"[*]

"I'd be honored if you were to share them with me," he bowed his head to her.

She smiled broadly. "Okay! I need to get some things." She bounced into the kitchen and rummaged around. "Do you have anything that will protect your foot from something sharp?" she called back to him.

"I could put on my work boot…" he said, getting up. Something sharp?

"Perfect. Get one of mine, too, please?" She carried some stuff in, covered by a cloth, as he passed her, heading for their bedroom.

He brought back the two boots, and she looked at his curious footwear, before drawing him to the middle of the room. "Stand here, love. Don't move." She began making a slow circle around him. "This has its roots in Ancient times. Back then it would be the first time I saw you, and this is my chance to inspect you." She started the third circle. "It also means that I'm entering your orbit, your sphere of influence, and that you have become the center of my world." She stopped after the seventh revolution. "Seven is the number of completion."

"What do I do?" he said, touched by the symbolism.

"Some modern ceremonies have the groom doing the same, in the spirit of egalitarianism." She smiled, but left the choice up to him.

He smiled back, and pressed on her shoulders to set her in place, and then he began to circle her. Looking, really _looking_ at this lovely girl who'd joined herself to him. Seven times he moved around her, then he stopped, and bowed deeply.

She curtseyed to him, and then frowned, thinking. "Now there's the stuff about her veil, and the canopy, and his mantle, and most of it doesn't apply to us since we've already been together… so, it's on the cups."

She led him back to the couch, and uncovered the stuff there. Two small plastic glasses, and his bottle of juice were there, along with the cloth napkin. "Guess we're lucky this is grape juice this time. It's supposed to be wine." She poured a little in both glasses. "The first cup we share is supposed to formalize the betrothal, and sanctify us."

She shrugged. "But it has another meaning. The Cup of Joy means that the joys we share, are joys that are doubled, for both of us." She handed him the glass, and he sipped from it, and then handed it back to her. She drank from it also.

She picked up the second glass. "This is shared during the seven blessings, but you've already said blessings over us. There's a second meaning to this one, too. This is the Cup of Sacrifice, and as we drink, we know that because we're together, the sorrows we share are halved, for both of us." She handed it to him. "Drink half."

Caught up in the ceremony of what she was doing, he did, and gave it back to her. She finished the juice, and then wrapped it in the napkin, tucking the ends inside. "Put your boot on," she said, and she put hers on. When they were safely shod, she put the wrapped glass on the floor. "Stomp on it. Break it."

He gave some good hard stomps, and let her take a turn. When the glass was reduced to shards, she said, "_Mazel Tov!_" and then picked it up. Kurt looked at her quizzically as they took their boots off. "That means, congratulations!"

She laid the wrapped bundle on the table, and opened it, revealing the pieces. "Like everything else, this has more than one meaning. First, I guess, is that it's a reminder of the destruction of the Temple. It also means that our old lives are gone for good. There is no turning back; we are bound together for as long as it takes for this cup to be made whole again."

She picked up a piece, and put it in her pocket. She handed him another. "While that 'made whole' line is said, in practice, two pieces are given to the Rabbi. He keeps one, and throws the other in a river. I guess that part is to show that the bond can never be completed, and therefore 'finished', without the intervention of the faith, and an act of God."

She rose, drawing him to the blankets that curtained off the hull space. "We don't have a river, but we have the vent. If we throw these out, it really would be an act of God to reunite this thing. Take us there?"

"Certainly, Kätzchen." He took her in his arms, and ported them up to the top beam. She air-walked over to the vent, holding her shard. He leaped at the vent, jamming a hand in between the vanes, and hanging there like that. She put her piece between the slats, and so did he. They let the plastic shards go, to tumble and fall to the ground so far below.

He ported back to the beam, and she phased back to it. He held her for a long moment, and then took them back to the deck. "Urg… That is so strange." She clung to him, catching her breath.

"Is that all?" he said softly, fascinated with the traditions she'd shown him.

"Oh, the bride and groom would be put in a room together, to indicate their new intimate relationship, and the symbolize they are to be accorded the privacy due a married couple." She shrugged again, which he took to mean that she didn't think the point really applied to them. "Anyway, now, I _really_ feel married."

He walked her back to the couch, and settled in the corner with her in his arms. "You didn't say anything about rings. Are rings exchanged?"

"Rings? Yes. But it's like the circling thing. The bride gets a plain gold band on her right hand and in a modern ceremony, so does the groom." She nuzzled his neck. "It comes between the cups, somewhere around when the wedding contract is read."

"A contract? Sounds like a business deal." And rather cold blooded, he thought.

"Marriage can have all sorts of legal complications, especially if there is property or inheritances involved. It's like a cross between a prenuptial agreement, and the vows in your sort of ceremony. Both parties can put things in it that they want said; promises and the like."

He thought for a while, breathing in her scent. "Do you want the string on your right hand?" Part of him was afraid she did, and he wasn't sure why.

"What? No. Oh, no." She doubled up her left hand in a protective fist, turning and kissing him. "Kurt, you're Catholic, and I'm Jewish. Those facts aren't going to change anytime soon. Our marriage, and our lives, will be a blending of our traditions… so it's right that our wedding is, too. This string-ring you gave me was for your part of it, and I won't change it for anything."

A vast sense of relief came over him. He chased the feeling until he pinned it down. "I was afraid… that you would not meet me halfway… that I would have to do all the accommodating. I know that sounds selfish, Kätzchen."

"No it doesn't. Love, this isn't going to be easy. We will both have to work hard to make this marriage work. There will be times when we fight, but I will always love you. I may be angry, but my love will still be there."

"And mine, _ mein liebe_. I can see our love lasting through anything."

"Yeah, and we have another advantage. When one of us does something stupid, and the other blows their top… all we have to do is remember where we are… for petty misunderstandings not to be so important anymore."

He sighed. "I wish you could meet my family. Mother Szardos would love you."

"I… am not so sure I can say the same thing. Mom and Dad were real big on the 'passing for normal' thing. You take some getting used to."

"_Ja_. Don't I know that one…" He felt her wriggle on the lump under her. His hands came up from around her waist to her breasts. "So. Want to retire to our bed, while we still have a honeymoon? But no tail thing, _liebe_. I want to be able to take my time with you."

She mock pouted at him. "Spoilsport. But you have a deal." She hopped up from his lap. "Race ya!"

He bolted after her in a mad dash…

[*] Any confusion is hers; she's young and her parents aren't very observant… Don't buy that? Okay, the mistakes are all mine. I'm not Jewish (mostly Celtic bloodlines) but I looked up a dozen plus pages on Jewish wedding traditions, and sorta gleaned what I thought might be relevant for them. Anyone who actually KNOWS this stuff please tell me about anything that's outta line, plzkthx.


	16. Kitty - Trainers and Tormentors, part 1

There was an alarm going off by her ear. Kitty was suddenly aware that she was late for school… She jumped upright and stopped still… at the sight of Kurt blinking blearily up at her. _Oh, right._ She was indeed late for school. She'd missed about a third of her freshman year of High School by now…

"_Vas, liebe_?" he said. He sat up and leaned back on his hands, stretching.

The lean muscles of his body were a feast to her eyes. If only he knew how yummy he was. "I, uh, thought I was late for school," she said with a sheepish grin. "I haven't heard an alarm clock in months. Usually we're rousted awake by the guards. Now, c'mon sleepy. We have to get ready for work… I'd rather do that than go to the clinic, any day."

"_Nein_," he said. "I set the alarm a half hour early…." He put his strong hands around her waist, and pulled her closer, kissing her neck.

"Hey… didn't you get enough of me yesterday? I'm gonna be bow-legged."

"Never," he breathed in her ear, and proved his words by doing a nice try at devouring her lips, his hands roaming down her back. His tail got into the picture then, sliding up the inside of her legs and doing naughty things where they met. She gasped, and relaxed into his loving touches.

They kissed again at the door of their quarters, and parted. She went to the elevator, and he turned the other way, to the garbage room at the stern. Kitty made her way to her workroom. Once there, she returned the soft greetings of her fellow workers and headed for Karla. The guard watched them for a while until they got thoroughly into the work.

"Are you okay, sweety?" the older woman asked when he moved away. "I got worried when you didn't show up Saturday, and then they collected your things…"

"Yeah. It's been a long weekend, though." She made a face. "Kurt and I fell asleep together Friday night, and our trainers woke us up Saturday morning."

"Oh my God, Kitty. What happened?" Karla's eyes were round in surprise.

"I got a pelvic, and we each got the third degree, and some brig time. Then…" She flushed deep red and moved a load of clothes to the dryer. "Then, they made us… have sex, in front of them." Karla's face expressed her shock, but she didn't say anything to that, she just went on with the mechanics of the job.

"It was my, well, both of our first times. I was pretty sore, so they gave us yesterday off, and moved me in with him. I'm not complaining." She smiled. "Yesterday was fun."

Karla chuckled. "So he made you a woman, huh?"

"Many times. He's a randy blue goat, my Kurt." She winked. "And the tail…"

"Oh, hush. You may get to live with your lover, and I don't understand THAT at all, but some of us have to wait for the Socials."

"I… I'm sorry, Karla. I didn't mean to rub it in…"

"It's okay. It's a good thing you're a cute kid, or I could start to get jealous at that whole 'I've been fucked silly' look about you." Kitty pretended to dump a soggy load on her, blushing furiously.

"Mind you, I'm not saying that look's a bad thing… but if you keep it up, it could get annoying."

"I'll try to remember. We know that there's something more going on, something sneaky, but we're just trying to enjoy it while we can."

"Good idea. There's no such thing as permanency here. You remember that, too."

"I will." Kitty was quiet for a while. "You're my best friend here."

"Besides him, you mean? I know, kid. I feel the same way."

"I'm from Deerfield, Illinois, right near Chicago."

"I'm from the capitol of Kentucky. Say, do you pronounce that Louis-ville or Louie-ville?"

"Um… Louie-ville?" Kitty gave her a confused smile.

"Nope, Frankfort. Sucker. People always fall for that one…"

"Why you… that was mean." Kitty glared at her, trying to suppress her smile.

Karla gave her a wicked smile. "Did you have a pet as a kid?"

"I had a cat. She was just about to have kittens." Kitty looked down, folding clothes.

"Ah. Then you're used to dealing with fur, and tails…"

Kitty gave her a blank look, and then shook her head, smiling. "Not like this though…"

"I'll bet… I used to have a dog when I was little…"

She had lunch in the dining hall. It didn't make sense to go down below just to have lunch with him, and then hurry back up for training. At least, not today it didn't. She changed into her fighting togs, and entered the big room. Kneeling as she always did, she recited the oath, and reported to Howards.

"Stretch out, Hound. Show me how well you've recovered."

"Yes, sir." Hedrick must have mentioned her limp.

Agent Vaile wasn't there. Instead, it was the younger of Kurt's trainers. She felt an antipathy for him, well, more than she usually felt for an Agent. The man watched her as she stretched, with a predatory eye that made her uncomfortable. Like he was… checking her out.

Howards nodded. "Good enough. I've a new assignment for you, from the General, since you've come to his attention. You're going to learn to phase another person with you when you walk through things."

Okay. Yeah. Whatever. "Yes, sir."

He tossed her a bag. Oof. That was heavy. "That's 50 pounds. Take it through those barriers over there, all five of them."

She nodded, and walked through them all, and came back to him. He looked at her face, and grabbed her wrist to check her pulse. "Not even phased, huh? Heh." She hated people who laughed at their own jokes. "Take this one now." He gave her another bag.

This one was twice as heavy. There wasn't much trouble taking this bag through the walls, either. She was having more trouble just carrying a bag nearly equal to her weight several yards to the start point than she was phasing with it. While phased, it weighed only a fraction of what it did when solid.

Howards raised his eyebrows as he watched her stagger back with the bag, and drop it. "Guess we need to increase your weight training, but you're such a little thing… Brestin, you'll get her strength up. I'll write you up some goals to get her to."

"Yes, sir. I'll work her real good." He smirked.

"Um, sir," she said quietly, with a reluctant tone. He nodded at her to continue. "If I phase them over there to begin with, it doesn't matter how much it really weighs."

He looked at her appraisingly, and nodded curtly, acknowledging her point. "Still, it would be better if you were stronger. You're not the twig you were when you got here, but Missions are heavy work." He gestured for her to come over, and gave her both the bags, steadying her when she stumbled. "Try it with these."

She did, taking them through the walls, and got the bags back to Howards. She frowned and dropped them, willing them to turn solid before they phased into the deck. They thudded to the ground. "So, the main problem is just picking up the weight? Okay… we can work on that. Load up your knives and take up your boffers. Brestin, give her a good workout."

Putting her knives on was almost as well worn a procedure as the litany was. Howards liked her to be at her full fighting weight when dueling with the Agents. Brestin picked up his padded sticks and walked to the circle. "Come on at me, girly."

She circled him and feinted. After the first exchange, she knew she was in for a hard time today. Brestin was very good at knife fighting, and he had weight, reach, and years of skill on her. He fought like the chalked boffers could do her real damage, and was trying very hard to deal her some.

On her part, some of the edge of fear she'd had with Ox came back to her. There was something about his eyes, and the way he looked at her, making her feel like a piece of meat. She didn't like it, not one little bit. The cool calculation that had taken her then, of when to strike and where, was hers again. She leaned on it hard, and put everything else aside. This was the dance, the bullfight, the time to see whose blood would be shed, and she didn't mean for it to be hers.

Then it was over. In a quick exchange he smeared chalk on her neck from ear to ear, and she'd lost. "Damn!" she muttered, irritated he'd taken her so easily.

Howards clapped. "Nice job, girl. You put some real effort into that, but you haven't worked up a sweat yet. Keep her at it until you're ready to stop, Brestin."

"Yes, sir!" he said. He turned back to her, and saluted with the boffer. "_En garde!_" And he charged at her with no further warning… She lost this one, too, and the next. The fourth match, she got him with a tricky stab to his side as she slipped by him. It seemed to annoy him, and he pasted her the next time, bulling her over with his size. The last match was a mutual 'kill'; she had her point in his throat, while he had his jammed in her chest. He nodded acknowledgement of her score, and backed off.

She was sweating now, almost panting as she fought to catch her breath. "Couple jogs 'round the room," Brestin said. He went to the table to pick up the clipboard Howards prepared for him. "Then we go to the weight room."

She padded around the training room. What had Karla told her? 'There's no such thing as permanency here.' Wasn't that the truth… She didn't like her new trainer, and less so all the time.

She took off her knives and changed into her sweats in the locker room. In the weight room, he told her the new weights and reps, and Kitty bit back a groan. She started doing them, though. There was no other choice. He watched her closely as she worked the weights.

She didn't think anything of it, at first. Vaile watched her, too, especially when her reps/weights were changed, to make she didn't strain herself. A Hound had to obey, but a trainer responsible for getting one hurt or killed without orders was in big trouble. They were considered valuable property to Shield.

But Brestin… A dull flush marked her face behind the evidence of her exertions. It was where he was watching her that bothered her; her chest as she worked her pectorals and upper body. Her crotch when she used a machine for thigh splits. She could feel his eyes on her ass on yet another machine.

There was a glint in his eyes. One she'd seen in Ox, and at the Socials. Naked, predatory, male interest. She'd never seen a look quite like it on Kurt's face. He had a similar look, but it was always alloyed with his love, and constant adoration. This sort of look… made her feel that the male in question didn't care if she had a brain, or feelings, or a capacity for pain. It made her feel like an object.

"So," he said. "You seem to have recovered from your… trauma on Saturday." He nodded at the lower part of her body.

"Yes, sir." She did not want to have this conversation, but she had to answer.

"Very strange, though, the way they set that fuzzy little monster to do it. If they wanted you 'trained' in that way, they could have gotten a… volunteer."

Kitty decided that wasn't a question, and kept working at her weights.

"'Course, if you want some more 'training' like that, I could oblige you…" His voice trailed off suggestively.

She was hard pressed to prevent a shudder. She was disgusted at the very notion of this man thinking she could want him. Ew. She took a breath. "Ah, thank you, sir. But I think it's all I can do tonight to get these reps finished. Sir."

He smirked at her. "Then we'll just have to work on that stamina, now, won't we?"

"Yes, sir, Agent Brestin." Why her? She wasn't one of the pretty ones. The beauties were never wasted on being Hounds. They were trained as 'comfort' for the upper echelons of Shield. She finished with her weight work and just sat at first. This was twice the work she was used to, and she was sore and tired.

"Okay, Hound," he said. "It's time for a nice hot shower."

That sounded like a good idea. She went to the shower room, and was partly undressed when she realized he'd followed her again. He raised an eyebrow at her when she froze, and she made herself continue, trying to ignore him. She finished stripping, and went into the tiled shower area, and started washing. The walls around it were four feet high, just tall enough to mount the showerheads and soap dishes, as well as provide a modicum of modesty.

That faint protection was no help at all when he stepped right up the wall and watched her. She started to try to hurry through it, but he stopped her. "Take your time, Hound. Mustn't neglect your hygiene, right?"

Despite herself, she kept an eye on him from her peripheral vision. He was moving a little oddly, behind the wall. His right shoulder rose and fell with a rhythmic motion that gradually sped up. It hit her suddenly, what he was doing. The pervert was jacking off, practically in front of her.

The worst thing about the situation was that if he ordered her to do anything… she'd have to do it; no question, and no recourse, either. He grunted softly, and smirked again. She turned away as he finished, and walked out. Just when she thought the place couldn't get any worse, she was proved wrong, again.

She leaned against the tiled wall, and slid to the floor, huddled in on herself. She was still in the spray of the shower, and she stared at the swirls pouring into the drain. If he did more than hint at his interest… and why the hell was he interested in her? If he took it farther… Damnit, she was thinking in circles again. She clutched her left hand to her breast, and drew strength from Kurt's love. He wanted her, and loved her, and that was all that mattered.

She got back up and washed again, feeling soiled from Brestin's eyes on her. She hurried through the rest of her shower. It was almost time for dinner, and she didn't want to be late. She had dispensation from the General to eat with Kurt at the Missions dining room. It was mixed genders, unlike the normal ones, and the food was pretty good.

She didn't have a rank card yet, but part of the General's experiment was that they were to spend a lot of time together. The named Hounds tended to ignore her, or stressed that she was a mere trainee while they had code names. Kitty didn't care, as long as she was with Kurt. She leaned on the wall outside, unable to enter until he used his card for them both.

He came slowly up the hallway, hands in his pockets, and his tail twitchy. He stopped when he reached her, and looked in her brown eyes. Dull confusion and discomfort in his golden eyes was replaced by concern when he saw the distress in hers. "Kätzchen?" he said softly.

She shook her head. "Later. Maybe. It's just… training as changed." That wasn't all that was wrong, but it was all she wanted to say for now.

He nodded, and took her arm. "Mine, too. Sucks, doesn't it?"

She laughed. Did he learn that from her? "You have no idea." By the time dinner was over, they were almost back to normal. She felt the weight of another burden in her life, but with Kurt beside her, she could handle it, and then some.

On the way home, he put an arm around her. "You're limping again."

"They nearly doubled my weights regimen. So, yeah. The… uh, other reason I was limping doesn't bother me anymore."

"It didn't seem to be a problem this morning, _liebe_. I'm very glad." He smiled as they left the elevator.

"I bet..." she smiled. "I told Karla what a randy blue goat you are."

He snorted. "Goat? I thought I was an elf, _mein_ Kätzchen."

"That, too." She sighed when the door closed behind them. "I just want to soak in the tub, mess around, and sleep."

"If Saturday is any indication, you'll be tempted to skip the middle step."

She gave him a heated look. "Oh, no chance of that, love. Tonight… I need you."

"Sounds promising. You get undressed, and I'll draw your bath."

She kept hold of his arm as he started to leave, and he turned to her. She kissed him, lingeringly, with all the feeling and affection that was in her expressed by her kiss. He blinked when they came up for air, a tender smile on his face. She traced the smile with her fingers. "I love you, Kurt, with all of me."

"I love you too, Kätzchen." He embraced her, holding her close. She clutched her arms around him, taking comfort from his presence.

When she leaned back, he went to the bathroom ahead of her. She undressed in the bedroom, and followed him in. She soaked in the hot water, watching him as he watched her. "Aren't you going to ask me what's wrong?"

He stroked her cheek. "No. You know you can talk to me about anything. When you're ready to, you will."

"Thanks, love. I don't want to talk about it tonight, I think. I need to chew on it some more."

"It doesn't look like it tastes very good," he said.

"You're right about that. Well, I'm done here. Go turn down the bed?"

He leaned down to kiss her, and then helped her to stand. "I will await you," then he slipped out.

She didn't want to tell him about Brestin. It would make him angry; maybe angry enough to try something stupid. And the trainer hadn't really done anything, yet. She sighed. So, why did it feel wrong not to tell him?

She came into the bedroom, and found him sitting on the bed. She turned off the light and made her way in the dark by the beacons that were his eyes. She encountered the edge of the bed, and moved down into his arms. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to turn his attentions to the intimate, and neither was she. Eventually they did come together, and that was quiet, too; peaceful and loving.

They held each other for a long time, just sharing the warmth of their contact. His breathing finally began to setting into the gentle rasp of his sleep. She snuggled closer to him, rubbing her cheek of the soft fuzz of his chest, and her fingers moving lightly through the softness of his fur. His tail came up, and rubbed along her lower back, and she smiled. Even in his sleep, he returned her caresses.

Marrying him was the best thing she'd ever done.


	17. Kurt - Trainers and Tormentors, part 2

It was worth getting up early to see the look on her face when he told her they could take some 'personal time' this morning before work. If there was nothing keeping them from being together, he meant to seize any opportunity to hold her. Making love to his Kätzchen was something he would never get tired of.

Cheerfully he ate the breakfast she prepared, and kissed her goodbye at the door. A tremor went through him as he heard the elevator door close. Once out of his sight, anything at all might happen to her. They probably wouldn't injure or kill her, not with all the expense of training invested in her, but anything short of that was entirely possible.

He arrived at the garbage room, and checked in, getting to work. He hummed along with the music they played over the speakers. Some sort of news talk-radio program was playing in Joe's office, and it provided a low-level counter noise he couldn't quite understand.

Near noon, Joe gestured at him to come up to his office. As he neared, he finally picked out some of the broadcast. _"…ther news, the Chairman of the Senate again questioned Director Murray of Shield about the lack of progress against the Mutant Raiders. The…"_ He heard Joe curse, as the man scrambled to turn it off. He kept any reaction off his face. Mutant raiders? So that's why Joe would never give him a radio.

"You asked to see me, sir?" he said, ignoring the nervous look on Joe's face as he moved away from the radio.

"Yeah." Joe shut the door. "I wanted to hear from you just what happened this weekend. First you don't show up, and then you come in this morning like nothing happened. No one tells me anything about it, of course. So, spill."

"Remember the girl I met?" Joe nodded. "She was down here again Friday, and we… fell asleep on the couch together. She missed work, too.

"Oh boy. Bet they put your asses to the fire for that."

"_Ja_. They were not happy with us. They questioned us and put us in the brig for hours. Then they directed us to entertain them… by making love where they could watch us."

"Yer shittin' me… They did _what_?"

"_Nein_, they did. Our first times, too." He shrugged. "Then they moved her in with me, and gave us Sunday off together. She still has to work upstairs, but she spends her nights with me."

"And I bet you're just all upset about that." Joe grinned at him.

Kurt returned his own smile, and then he affected a saddened expression. "We are just terribly heartbroken by it."

"So that's why you had such a happy tail today, huh?"

"_Was_? Uh, what do you mean?" Kurt tilted his head, confused.

"That tail of yours tells the world how yer feelin', if they care to look. If you're mopey, it hangs down, and if you're happy it bounces around and shit. Happy tail; happy you. Get it?

"_Ja_. I get it. Excuse me if I don't tell her that one."

"Bet she's already figured it out. Girls are like that."

"Probably. Is that all? I'd like to get my lunch?"

"Yeah, get on outta here, and don't have too much fun, 'kay?"

Kurt laughed. "Is there such a thing?" Joe just shook his head as he left.

He washed up and ate lunch. He kept watching the door, but she didn't show up. It would be silly for her to come down, only to leave again, but it didn't stop him from wishing she would. He left only when he had to and not be late for training.

Kneeling, he paid his respects to Shield with his lips, while praying to God in his heart. He feared this practice stretched the promise he'd made to renew his commitment to the training, but he didn't think that it broke it. It was a promise made under duress, after all.

Agent Brestin wasn't there; instead it was Kitty's lady trainer, and another female agent, in addition to Combs. He started his day by picking a series of progressively harder locks, followed by a very tough safe with a strict time limit. He managed to open it with a half minute to spare.

Then he went through his acrobatics series on the special equipment mounted on the ceiling and walls that very few used beside himself. All three of them pocked at him with the paint guns. He had a feeling it was a kind of entertainment for them to try to shoot him. His innate sense of showmanship urged him to play with the exercise; to tease them by almost letting them hit him, but his common sense talked him out of it.

Combs called him over by the table. "You've gotten to the point that you can't be challenged in combat by any but the best trainers. As of today, you'll be sparring with other Hounds. Today, and for a while, your opponent will be Stalker. I believe you may be acquainted with him…"

"Hey, altar boy," a familiar voice drawled behind him.

Kurt's tail thrashed once, and then he clenched his jaws to prevent baring his fangs. If it wasn't his 'old friend', Brad. For a second, a thrill of fear went through him, as he remembered the late night get-togethers the man used to arrange for him.

But only for a moment. He wasn't the same boy now who had shivered in fear of the man. Brad had done a lot to make his and Kätzchen's life here miserable. Perhaps it was time to return the favor… He turned around, and gave him a bare nod. The man looked almost impressive in his fighting gear.

He was a good head taller than Kurt, and much more massively built. He carried his bulk fairly well, but there was a hint of plodding to his step. Kurt noticed a slight thickening of his neck that told him much. He was worked hard, they all were, but they didn't keep Brad on as fine an edge as he was; too little adrenaline, and too much good food.

All of that noted, this would not be easy. Brad was a lot bigger than Kurt, obviously stronger, and a seasoned fighter. This would be interesting, and it was time to get started. He went to the table and put on his metal gauntlets, flexing his blunt fingers within the intricate jointings.

Brad rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. "Nice mittens, boy. Your little hands not tough enough to do the job?" Kurt ignored the jibe.

"Nightcrawler, huh?" Brad continued. "Named you after your tail?"

"Very funny. What about you, oh Stalker-after-parked-cars?"

"I'm a hunter. I track down runaway mutants." He tapped his head. "I can sense 'em wherever they go, and I can subdue 'em when I find 'em."

Combs chuckled, and both Hounds looked at him. He just gestured for them to take the start places they were already approaching. "Seems you two are ready for this little encounter. So start already."

"_Jawohl_, _Herr_ Combs." Brad was a mutant hunter, the traitorous scum.

"My pleasure, Agent Combs." Brad grinned evilly.

Kurt stood loose, ready to move. He whispered so only Brad could hear him. "You'll find I'm not so easy a target when I'm not trapped in bed sheets."

"We'll see about that, runt," his foe said in an equally quiet voice. "I've missed your cute little cries of pain."

Kurt ported behind and above him and clouted him the back of the head with his gauntlet, at the same time he kneed Brad in the back with his full falling weight. Then he ported in front of his opponent again, as Brad started to turn to his back, and punched him in his deceptively large gut.

Kurt almost dodged the reflexive backhand from Brad. It clipped him a little, but not enough to daze him. He danced backwards, and Brad charged, a huge fist coming in an undercut blow that would crush ribs if it connected. It didn't. Kurt flipped into a handstand and launched both his heels in a slam to the solar plexus, jolting Brad backwards.

So, the pattern of battle formed. Kurt couldn't stand toe to toe with the big man, no more than Kitty could with Ox, but he could hit and run, and try to stay out of reach. But the more they fought, the faster Brad became. The frustration of not being able to lay his hands on Kurt was inspiring him to reach levels of effort that he didn't think Brad had reached in a while.

Big hands caught him around a muscled thigh, and Kurt was swung by it to the floor, hard. He panted as Brad smirked, drawing back a fist. Kurt ported to the top of the gym equipment, and watched as Brad punched the floor with a barely pulled blow. The big man growled, and turned unerringly to his foe. Kurt ported to one of the top corners of the room, and Brad turned to him again.

He couldn't runaway forever, but Brad couldn't get to him here, either. Stalker loped over to the corner, and pulled something from his belt. He activated it and threw it up at Kurt. It expanded into a net, crackling with energy. Kurt ported back to the gym equipment. "So that's where you get your habit of beating up people who can't fight back. I should have known." The red flush of anger on Brad's face was reaching comic proportions.

Brad growled again and moved to the equipment. "When I get my hands on you, little monkey, I'll pull that tail out by the roots and tear off your dick. Then we'll see how much the little Jew cunt likes you."

"Only if you can catch me, oh hunter of snails." Kurt's voice was light and mocking, but he felt as winded as Brad looked. He wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to avoid the man. At close range, Kurt would be a world trouble.

They played a little hide and seek among the bars and rings. Kurt used his speed and agility, conserving his energy to teleport. His caution paid off. In a canny move, Stalker cornered him, out of sight of the trainers. "This is it, runt," he whispered. "A little training 'accident'… and your Kitten's up for grabs, and I mean to do the grabbin'..."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, and tried to find a space in this nook of bars and wood that he could port to, and escape. The fur on his neck stood up as he realized he couldn't see around Brad, and the man's hand was closing over his face. He ported blind, several yards out and a few feet up, his facing to the equipment. He landed lightly, as Brad screamed in frustration, fighting his way out of the press of equipment.

Kurt closed his eyes and thought about what he'd just felt. He could tell exactly where he was porting in relation to where he started from, his head mapped the exact distances in three dimensions. The only thing he couldn't tell was if there was an obstacle in his way, which explained his initial need to see his target. But if he was in an open space like he was now, his matured power could pin point port locations much faster than he could mark them with his eyes.

Brad broke out of the equipment and closed in on him. Kurt kept his eyes on him, and spread out his spatial senses. Brad slowed, confused by the sight of Kurt just crouching there, waiting for him. Then he lunged at the boy. _Bamf._ A kick to the back of the neck… _Bamf._ An elbow slammed squarely in the shell of his left ear… _Bamf._ A metal gauntlet to the side of the nose… _Bamf…_ _Bamf… Bamf…_ Each port marked a blossom of pain in Brad's body, from a wildly different direction and orientation.

Brad's hunter senses weren't working at all. They only told him Kurt was near and close to hand, and he already knew that. The tang of blood scented the air, some from Brad, some from Kurt. Unable to lay a hand on the dervish whirling around him, Brad tried to back up to a corner of the room.

"Hold!" Combs shouted. Brad huddled on the floor, hands clasped over his bruising head and face. Kurt appeared panting a few yards away, fangs bared and his nostrils red with seeping blood. "Both of you, approach the table." Brad was treated for minor skin tears and scrapes. Kurt only needed a cloth pressed to his nose until it stopped bleeding. "Stalker, you need to work on your speed," Combs said. "I'll note that in your file."

"Yes, sir," Brad said, glaring at Kurt.

"Nice work, Nightcrawler. That multiple porting routine will be a nice addition to your combat skills. Do a half set of weights, and shower up."

"Yes, sir," Kurt said. He ignored Brad. The fear had been cleansed from him. Bigger the man might be, but he wasn't tougher than Kurt was. His weights set didn't take long. Vaile supervised him, and talked quietly to her companion. He took a long hot shower, soaking the bruises out of his muscles. He came into the dressing room with a towel wrapped around his middle, and started the long process of drying off enough to get dressed.

He was mostly done when they approached him. Vaile and her friend observed him with little smiles on their faces, smiles that he didn't like. He froze, sitting on the bench, a towel over his hair, his hands simply holding it here, now that he wasn't rubbing it anymore. Vaile plucked the towel from his hands, and her friend came in on his other side. He stiffened when he felt exploring hands touching his back.

Soon two pairs of hands were… petting him. It was the only way he could describe it. He clutched his left hand into a fist and remembered Kätzchen. They scratched through the nap of his fur and smoothed it back down, all the while never a saying a word to him, only exclaiming at the softness of him to each other. He might as well have been a plush toy, and they didn't bother to ask him, of course.

He fought against enjoying the experience, but it wasn't hard to do. The humiliation of being petting like an animal, without his consent, did much to stifle his reaction to being stroked. He made an unconscious sound of annoyance when the woman from the Pysch department started toying with his tail.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "So, what sort of things did you say he was doing with this?"

Vaile laughed. "It's like another hand, or a tongue, and he can send it anywhere while the rest of him is busy…"

Kurt closed his eyes and made himself sit quietly, enduring their attentions in stoic silence. Except he couldn't help but to squirm when the woman breathed hotly on the end of his tail. They laughed at his reaction. Patting him condescendingly on the head, they turned and left the dressing room. Kurt shuddered in revulsion and rage, then got himself under control and dressed. He didn't want to be late for dinner with Kätzchen.

He went to the mission dining hall, taking his time, and thinking. The... incident that had just happened disturbed him. It bothered him that the petting might lead to… another kind of petting. One that he would be equally unable to decline. He didn't like the idea. His personal space had been pretty much respected, except by Brad and his friends. It was hard to train a fighter when they didn't have any sense of worth or self-dignity left.

It was these thoughts that led him to Kätzchen, leaning on the wall outside the dining room. Her eyes had much the same distress that had to be visible in his. He said her name softly, but she deflected his question. She didn't want to talk about what was bothering her, and in truth, neither did he.

He ignored the glares from Brad's table, as they ate together. The bully was saying something disparaging about Kitty to his friends, just loudly enough for Kurt to hear. He didn't give Brad the satisfaction of seeing his annoyance, and he kept his tail wrapped around his lady's leg.

As they went back to their quarters, he gave her his arm. "You're limping again." She blamed the extra weights, reassuring him that otherwise she was fine. "It didn't seem to be a problem this morning, _liebe_. I'm very glad."

"I bet…" she said. "I told Karla what a randy blue goat you are."

"Goat?" Did she have any idea how much they smelled? "I thought I was an elf, _mein_ Kätzchen." That too, apparently. She was eager for a soak, and he resigned himself for an early bedtime. She reassured him of that, too, with loving words and a kiss that warmed him all through. She held him tightly, with a hint of desperation, but he was willing to wait until she was ready to talk about it, and he told her so.

After her bath, they made love, slowly and deliberately. He brought her to satisfaction, but he felt that something was bothering her, even as he loved her. He fell asleep holding her, worry making his sleep restless.


	18. Kitty - Hands of Mercy

Kitty was on the edge well into the next week. Agent Brestin still leered at her, and made lewd suggestions, but never went so far as to initiate any contact. She couldn't bring herself to tell anyone, but the two people closest to her could tell she was disturbed by something. Her tension communicated itself to them, just as theirs communicated to her.

Kurt was also nervous about something he hadn't told her about. He was solicitous as always, a constant comfort for her, but something was weighing upon her husband. She tried to be there for him, as he always was for her.

Karla was really focused on her own performance, and as edgy as Kitty had ever seen her. "I've never really done well on my missions, Kitty," Karla told her. "I never completely failed, but I've never earned my mission card, either. I just gotta do it, this time."

It wasn't clear to Kitty what was so important to her friend, but she tried to support and encourage her anyway. On Thursday, Karla gave her a hug as she left, despite the guard's glower. Tomorrow was the mission day. "Good luck, Karla," Kitty said.

"Thanks, sweety. I think I'm gonna need it."

It was lonely without her. Without her friend to talk to, it was five hours of damp, noisy drudgery. Dirty clothes came in, were sorted, washed, dried, sorted again and sent back to the wearer. Every part of the work was unpleasant in unique and interesting ways.

Saturday morning shift was a repeat of Friday. It was just work now. Karla should have been back today… She knew better than to ask about her. That was a big no-no. You never asked where a Hound disappeared to. They just did sometimes, and often they never returned. As Kitty was leaving her lunch, Major Hedrick and Trainer Howards intercepted her. What was Howards doing here on a Saturday?

"Hound," Howards said. "Let's go back to the dining room." The other lunching Hounds left the room as they found a clean table to talk. A work detail came in and started cleaning up, carefully ignoring Kitty and the men.

The major nodded at Howards, and the agent did the talking at first. "We are here to offer you an opportunity, girl. A situation has come up, and it has been determined by the major's department that the most advantageous way to exploit it is by offering you a chance to earn your Mission card, by performing a special test, today aboard the Carrier."

She could get her own Mission card? That would be nice. But… what would she have to do? "What is the nature of the test?" she said.

The major spoke this time. "To fully understand what we are asking, you have to understand what happens to a Hound or a Worker who is no longer of any use. They are not simply executed, they are studied, to see what makes their mutations function. Once the mutant is dead, the study is continued post-mortem, but they much prefer to begin the studies before that…"

Kitty shuddered. Shades of Doctor Mengele[*]…

"We have in our custody a Hound who has 'washed out', and is no longer useful to the program. The research department is clamoring for the rights, but your trainer has a previously standing claim on such a person to provide a graduation test for yourself." He leaned back in his chair. "My department was called in to make sure that you were able to handle the assignment."

Kitty frowned. "And what is the assignment…?"

"A useless Hound is a dead Hound, as you well know. It is the manner of death that is the question here. So, what will it be for them? Live vivisection, or a fast, clean death… by your knives?

"You want me to…" _Oh, God._ "Why me?"

Howards took up the argument. "Because, for all your target practice, and the duel with Ox, you've never killed. We didn't give you those blades as a fashion statement. We want you to kill with them. You need the actually experience to get you over the hump, and Major Hedrick here thinks that by posing it as a favor to the target, that it might be easier on you. Up to you, though."

"Ca-can I see the… target first, before I decide, and talk to them?"

Howards looked at Hedrick, and the major nodded. "Yes. That will convince you that the target has agreed to this form of execution, as opposed to the other option."

Part of her wanted to be sick. More of her was trembling on the knife-edge between withdrawal and hysteria. She felt like pieces of her wanted to fly apart at the seams and never return. Blood. It all came back to blood. She stared down at the table. This was the choice she'd made, to protect Kurt.

"I want to see the person, talk to them, first. Before I decide."

They looked at each other. Hedrick cleared his throat. "I believe that you know her."

Kitty grimaced, her eyes screwing shut. _Karla._ They wanted her to kill Karla. But if it was that or let the butchers at her… "How do I know that this… vivisection thing you mentioned is real?"

Hedrick nodded again. "I thought you might ask that. I brought some photographic records. They're disturbing." He put a photo album on the table. In it were page after page of subjects, each starting with a 'before' pictured, and ending with the 'after'. In between were several shots of the procedures done on the mutants, who were obviously awake and aware of them. The pictures showed some faces that were screaming, and some that were weeping. All wound up dead in the closing shot. Eventually.

Kitty closed the book with trembling hands. "Can I see her now?"

Howards nodded. "She's set up in your training room."

Kitty walked with them to the room. She went to the dressing room first, and put on her cat suit, and all that it entailed, settling the wrist sheaths on her arms. Then she went into the training room. Karla was bound onto a brace, sort of a gurney tilted up at a steep, nearly vertical angle. She looked beaten up. One arm bore heavy bandages, and there were marks of combat everywhere Kitty could see. Over her belly were three neat parallel cuts through her uniform that had barely marked the flesh underneath.

Kitty couldn't help but try to analyze what had made the marks on her stomach, and elsewhere on her friend. Some kind of tri-bladed knife, maybe? Karla looked up, and Kitty's belly knotted at the despair she could in her eyes. Karla nodded to her painfully, and Kitty approached her.

"Hey… Kit." Her voice was hoarse and halting. "Don't… believe. Everything… you see. S…stay…"

Her last word was interrupted by Hedrick. "Ask the question you came here to ask."

Kitty bit the inside of her lip. What was she about to say? "Do you want… this…" She patted the blades on her arms, "Instead of… the other… the research?"

Karla looked her full in the eyes. "Trust you. Make it… quick. Clean. Don't trust… them." Her eyes closed. "M'sorry. _Please_."

"Well, Hound?" Howards asked. "The first kill is always the hardest. If you decline this, your next opportunity may not be so easy on you."

Kitty wanted to scream at him, _you think this is easy_? But it was. She had to do it. Karla was her friend, and she couldn't let her die a slow and merciless death. She just couldn't. "I'll do it." Her tone was flat and distant.

Karla looked up again, a glimmer of gratitude in her reddened eyes. "Thanks, Kit," she whispered. "Sorry. So sorry."

Kitty nodded brusquely, and paced off to her target practice range. "Close your eyes," she ordered. "I don't want you to flinch." Karla screwed her eyes tightly shut, her breath coming in gasps of anxious fear. Kitty looked for her center and found it, with an effort, in Kurt. _Shikt_. The daggers snapped to her hands. Cleansing breath. Heart. Left eye. Bright blood splattered from the wounds. Karla lurched in her bonds, and gave a painful gasp, then collapsed limply, her last breath leaking from her in a sigh.

Kitty flinched, but made herself finish the pattern. She drew the other two daggers from her boots. Right eye. Throat. No movement from the body. No sound except the wet thunks of steel striking flesh. The throat wound hardly bled at all, and it was dark and sluggish.

"Excellent marksmanship, Shadowcat," Howards said. "Retrieve and clean your blades." Kitty picked up a towel from the trainer table, and walked up to the corpse that had once been a friend.

The dagger in the throat came out pretty easily, with a scrape against cartilage. The ones in the eye sockets withdrew with a sucking sound that made Kitty struggle to keep her lunch. She had to give a yank to the blade protruding from the ribs. It was caught on the rib cage a little, but then pulled free. She took them to the table, and cleaned them thoroughly. She wanted no telltale trace left to remind her of this… crime of compassion.

Some orderlies came in and cranked the brace down to the horizontal and wheeled it out. Kitty followed it with her eyes. _Shalom_, Karla. May you be in a better place. She could feel Hedrick watching her, so she turned around and looked right back, raising her eyebrows at him.

"You may be controlling your reaction," he told her, "but be assured, there will be one. It's human nature."

_Oh. So, now I'm human. News to me._ She nodded.

Howards handed her a Mission card. "You can have the afternoon work shift off. The Hounds lounge is a good place to hang out. It's next door to the Mission dining room."

"Thank you, sir. That sounds like a good idea." She took off her knives and went to the showers, trying to wash the stench of guilt from her. No luck. She changed into her jumpsuit and went to the lounge. There were televisions here, and magazines, all of which appeared to be heavily censored. Nothing resembling 'news' was allowed to reach the Hounds. She curled up in a chair and blankly watched sitcom re-runs. It was going to be a long time until dinner…

This time she loitered inside the dining room, waiting for Kurt. A guy Hound she didn't know tried to shoulder her aside on general principles, even though she wasn't in his way. "Watchit, no-name." She dodged and tripped him so he stumbled.

"Got a name, so fuck off," she said.

"Little Kitty's got some claws, now?" Brad laughed as he heard this. "I don't believe you."

She showed him the card. "It doesn't matter what you think, Brad." He snatched it out of her hand, and held it out of her reach, laughing. She grabbed him and phased them both knee deep into the deck. "Now, what happens if I let you go, Brad? They'll have to cut 'em off, and then the research guys'll get you. Give. Me. The. Card." He did, and she lifted them above the floor, and dropped him.

She air-walked to the door, and finally went solid when she saw Kurt. She gave him a hard hug. When they pulled apart, he took the card from her hand and looked at it, then gave it back to her. He smelled… sooty. "Hi love," she said.

"_Liebchen_," he murmured, and kissed her on the cheek. "Let's eat."

Dinner was quiet, and so was the walk home. When he closed their door, he put on some music and took her to the couch. "Can I tell you about my day at work, Kätzchen?"

She nodded. Anything, so she didn't have to talk about her day.

"It was a regular day, until the second shift." She flinched, but he continued as if he hadn't noticed. "Late in the shift, we got a 'special disposal' delivery. Joe and another guy usually deal with those, but the guy was out sick today. Joe called me to help him with it." He played with his tail, not looking at her.

"We wheeled it to the furnace room, and I smelled… death, and blood. There's this incinerator, with a sliding tray, like… a crematorium. We picked up the… body, and the sheet slipped off. I saw her."

Kitty covered her face with her hands. He knew.

"Despite the wounds, I knew her face. I must have said her name, because Joe asked me if I knew her. I said, yes, she'd introduced us to each other. She was… our friend." He took Kitty in his arms again, and she shivered when she caught the faint smell of smoke in his hair. "We put her through the fire, Kätzchen. It reeked so, even with the blowers running."

He was quiet for a while. "Joe left, during. When her ashes came out, he scooped some up in a little tin, and gave it to me. 'Nobody does anything for them,' he told me. 'Maybe you can think of something'. Then he had me scrape the rest of the ashes into a bucket, and throw them overboard. That's how dead Hounds are treated. Like rubbish."

She clung to him desperately, burying her face in the velvet of his neck. "I recognized the knife pattern you'd told me about," he said. "So, I know you were the one that did it. When I saw the card, I knew they gave it to you for doing it. But… will you tell me… why?"

"There's this research department here, Kurt. Doctors and scientists. They study mutants, and their powers, living and dead. They love to dissect them. Dead, if they have to, alive if they can. They wanted her, to cut her up alive. Howards had a claim for… some Hound under a death mark, so I could… have my first kill. I saw the pictures, of them doing things… and they were awake and screaming. That was why I even thought of doing it."

She pulled back and looked in his eyes. "She asked me to, Kurt. They let me talk to her. She said… that I'd make it quick and clean. She said… please." She was crying finally, shaking.

He looked back at her face for a long moment, and nodded. He reached into his thigh pocket, and removed a little candy tin. "Here's what's left. The rest of her must have… landed already. _Ach, mein_ Kätzchen, you must feel so terrible." She nodded jerkily and burst into racking sobs. He held her and whispered words of comfort to her. She just wanted it to go away, as he'd helped her chase her other nightmares away…

But this one wasn't leaving. Now, truly, there was blood on her hands, and some remaining fragment of innocence left within her, died. This one she couldn't dismiss, because she'd been given the option to refuse and she'd consented to the act. She had no one to blame for this sin, but herself, God help her. "I feel so old and ugly," she whispered. "I'm a murderer."

"You did it out of mercy, Kätzchen, not a desire to kill."

"She's still dead, and nothing will change that."

"From what you told me, she would be dead now, anyway. She was granted the choice of her death, and she asked for you, her friend." He took her cold hands in his, ignoring her flinch. "These are the hands of mercy, _liebe_."

"Killing is still killing." _Thou shalt not kill_…

"Even the legal system recognizes degrees of killing. Willing killing is murder, yes, but something like this, they call it manslaughter."

"Sounds even uglier." She sniffed and scrubbed her nose.

"But it is why you did it, _liebe_, that makes all the difference. _Mein_ Kätzchen?"

"Yes?" How could he look at her, after…

"I love you. I will always love you, no matter what you've done. Now, come to bed with me, wife. The morning comes early."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Kurt."

"Nor I, without you, my _schatz_."

[*]For more of the Angel of Death, check out Wikipedia.


	19. Kurt - A Marriage made in Hell

Kurt - A Marriage Made In Hell

Kitty woke up with a scream. She scrambled up and lashed at the fragments of nightmare that wakefulness was chasing away. Kurt sat up and wrapped his arms around her, and pinned her thrashing body until his soft worried voice penetrated her terror. "Hush _liebe_. It's all right. It's just a dream. _Liebchen_, be calm, shh."

"K… Kurt? Oh, God, I dreamed… I dreamed…"

"I can guess, my _liebe_. The 'I'm sorry' kind of gave it away." He held her tight as she shuddered in his arms. He looked at the clock and decided it was too late to get back asleep. Scooping her up, he carried her to the bath and sat her down while he ran a hot bath. He put her in it, in front of him, so he could keep holding her.

She leaned back against him and wept, brokenly. Now that she was awake, he didn't try to quiet her. She needed to cry, needed to let it out. All he could do was let her grieve, and hold her. When she was cried out he washed her, soaping off the sour sweat of fear that slicked her skin. He washed her hair, running his hands through the damp chestnut curls. Her hair was growing out of the short plush they had clipped it to, and he could see that it would be wavy.

When she was clean and relatively calm, he slipped out of the bath. Drying as fast as he could, he prepared a hot breakfast. "It is ready _liebe_, come and eat." Kitty wandered out to the table, wrapped in towels. She sat and stared at her plate numbly as he dished food into it. "Eat, _liebe_, or I'll… I'll tickle you."

Her brows furrowed at her plate. "You wouldn't." She muttered.

"Do you want to test me? I'll be forced to use even more drastic measures, if you don't eat."

She started muttering, and he could only pick out words here and there. "… mean cruel elf… … blue fuzz-butt…" But she picked up her fork and started eating. "… not hungry…"

He smiled. "Complain about my blue fuzzy butt all you like, Kätzchen, as long as I can see you eating. The body needs fuel, even if you're upset. Maybe more so." She ate most of it, and pushed the plate to him. He scooped what was left onto his plate, and when he finished that, he filled it one last time.

"It's a wonder you aren't totally round with all that you eat."

"Enhanced metabolism. It gives me energy. Without all that I eat I'd be a very sad, sluggish elf." He stood up and hunched far over, one hand pressed to his back, the other holding his tail like a crooked rubbery cane. He took a few tottering steps around the kitchen, looking for all the world like some old men she'd seen in the retirement home.

She chuckled, covering her mouth as her shoulders shook.

"Eh, girly? What's that? Are you laughing at me?" he piped in a high querulous voice. "It's not nice to make fun of your elders!" He pointed at her with a twitching finger, waggling his eyebrows ferociously. She burst out laughing, and threw a cloth napkin at him. His tail snaked up and grabbed it, and he straightened up so he could give her a grand bow. "_Danke_, _danke_. I'll be here all week." He came up behind her and cuddled her, nuzzling her neck. "Feel better, _liebe_?"

"Yeah… just… not much to laugh about, today."

"I know Kätzchen, but we live to laugh again." He leaned around and caught her mouth with his. The kiss was sweet, and lingered, while back in the bedroom his alarm went off.

"That still set a half-hour early?" He nodded, and she pulled him into the main room. "Cuddle with me, before we have to go to work?"

"You don't have to ask me twice. Holding you is my dearest delight." He embraced her. She hummed and leaned against him, losing some more of the crippling tension she'd woken with.

His sense of timing nudged him when it was time to dress. "Come along, _liebe_. We need to get ready." She met him at the door, later, and he took her hand. "Tonight we'll do something to commemorate her, all right?"

"Sounds good. I knew you'd think of something." She looked down. "I can't see past my guilt, yet."

"Give it time, Kätzchen. Just… give it time."

She shrugged. "Time is all I have to give, and even that isn't mine. She squeezed his hand, and walked to the elevator.

Kurt's work shift dragged on. He tried to remember every time he'd seen someone pitch a bucket of ash over the railing of the open bay. Dozens, it had to be dozens of times. And every time, it might have been the remains of a fellow mutant, thrown careless away. It made a man want to give it to hate, _Gott_ knew.

He was used to the stench, but he really didn't care all that much about separating the glass and cans today. It was just something to be done, whether he wanted to or not. Never a stranger to hard work, he'd cut plenty of firewood and tended to lots of horses during his years with the Romany. He'd never felt taken advantage of there; the work he did benefited everyone, directly or not. Here, he was grimly aware that his work served only to line the pockets of his masters. It was the worst kind of slavery.

By lunchtime he'd worked up to a fine snit of temper. His tail lashed as he stalked from the bay. He reached his quarters, made a few sandwiches, and ported to the beam opposite the vent in the hull-space. Getting angry would help nothing. He pulled a blanket from his cache in a high intersection of girders, and watched the ground pass by below as he ate his lunch.

When he finished, he took the knot-work rosary from his pocket, and began reciting prayers, bending his mind to calmness. It wasn't Joe's fault. The man was decent to him and he almost worked Hound's hours, except Kurt was sure that he was paid, and got overtime. He was pretty well centered by the time he reported back. He did his job efficiently, with no wasted movements.

Joe called him to the office at the end of the second shift. "It's real obvious you ain't happy today, and I can't say as I blame ya. See that little book? Put it in your pocket. I don't know nothing about it, clear?"

Kurt put the small white book in his thigh pocket. "Crystal, _mein Herr_." Kurt saw Joe grimace. "Sorry Joe."

"No problem. Now, scat, and stop scaring my workers."

_Was_? He looked around as he left. It looked like the bay workers had gotten a reminder today that Kurt was a Hound, trained for combat. He put a smile on his face, and waved as he left. A few waved back, but most were doggedly not looking at him. _Verdammt_, that as all he needed, to be scaring the few decent normals he had contact with by his thoughtless actions.

He went home, and put the book in his secret stash high up in the beams. Then he cleaned up and hurried to the Hall to dine with Kätzchen. She was waiting for him, as always. She looked tired and depressed, but she greeted him with a kiss, and they got their food.

As people left the hall, Brad stopped by their table. "I heard what happened yesterday. Man, she's got more balls than you do, altar-boy." Kitty looked up at him with a scowl, clutching her dinner knife like it was one of her weapons.

Kurt reached over and delicately, but firmly, removed it from her hand. "Remind me you said that, _Herr_ Stalker of slugs, the next time you and I spar, hmm?" Brad smirked, but walked away without further comment. "I'm going to have to give him a serious beating tomorrow," Kurt muttered.

"Kurt, he's bigger than you, he'll cream you."

"Didn't stop me from pasting the floor with him on Friday. Eventually."

"Eventually? Is that what was bothering you?"

"Eh? Ah, no. That was something else, and I'm still thinking about it. Can we go now?" He got up and pulled out her chair.

"Sure. We have plans tonight."

Up by the vent, Kitty cuddled in a blanket, as Kurt took a moment to study the little book by the indirect starlight. It was a tiny thing, a few centimeters across and slightly taller than it was wide. It was less than a couple of centimeters thick, but crammed full with nearly transparently thin pages printed in a small but readable typeface.

"What is it, love?" she asked him.

"Something Joe told me to take. It's a copy of the Book of Common Prayer, 1952 Episcopal edition." He looked at the gold foil name printed under the cross on the cover. "Issued to one Kimberly Anne Johansson, and apparently never used.[*] He leafed through the table of contents. "_Ser Gut_. This has all the Psalms, so it's something we can both use."

He smiled at her, and thumbed through more pages. "'Burial of the Dead'. _Ach_, this goes on for pages and pages… let me find where it gets to the point. Here it is."

_"Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were shadow, and never continueth in one stay. In the midst of life we are in death; of whom may we seek succor, but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased? Yet, O Lord God most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death. Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts; shut not thy merciful ears to our prayer; but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour, thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death to fall from thee."_

Kitty was sniffling, and she fidgeted with the tin in her hands.

_"Unto almighty God we commend the soul of our Sister departed, and we commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection unto eternal life. …Amen."_

"Amen," she echoed.

He tucked to book away, and leaped to the vent, snatching hold of one of the vanes before he fell. "Set her free, Kätzchen. In death, if not in life, she has the wings of an angel."

She nodded and opened the tin, air walking to the vent beside him. She sprinkled the ashes into his hand, making sure they turned solid as they fell. He thrust his hand out against the wind, and held it like that for a while, then opened his hand to release the gritty particles to the night sky.

Kitty air walked back to the beam, and shivered. Kurt took the tin from her, and put it among his treasures. Then he wrapped his beloved in his arms and ported them down to the deck. Kitty leaned on him as they came through the blankets into the main room.

"Kurt… I… need to tell you something. Sit with me?"

"Certainly, Kätzchen." He curled up on the couch beside her.

"Friday… Agent Brestin was acting as my trainer. Sparring with me. He's better than I am at combat." Kurt took her hands, feeling them tremble. "After the weights… he went into the shower room with me. Watching me. He'd been making … suggestions… about being with me…"

She stopped because Kurt's eyes were narrowed and his tail was lashing again. "You see? This is why I didn't want to tell you. You'll get all mad and do something stupid and he's a trainer and…"

He put a finger on her mouth to stop her nervous babbling. "Kätzchen. I'm not stupid. Please give me more credit than that. I may be angry, but that doesn't mean I will act on it. Okay?" She flushed with shame, and he wrapped her in his arms. "So, is that all?" Slowly, she shook her head. Kurt sighed. "What else?"

"He came right up to the shower…" She made a face. "And he… gratified himself… while he watched me."

Kurt's eyes were still narrowed. "Did he do anything else?"

"No. Not yet. But…" she spoke reluctantly, "I think it's only a matter of time before he does. He can do what he wants to me, and he knows it."

"_Ja_… and it fits the pattern. Agent Vail was one of my trainers Friday. She and a woman friend from the Psych department came to me while I was drying. They… played with my fur. Petting me like a cat, talking over me like I wasn't there. I also think it's a matter of time before they do… something more."

"What can we do about it?" Kitty said. She sounded close to tears.

"Do? Ah, Kätzchen. We can do nothing; we are Hounds, and not masters of our own fates, or our bodies. That was true even before we were wed. I think that our vows to each other can only apply to what we can control, and to what we are given the option of choosing. Whatever we are coerced to do… we must forgive each other for. He rubbed his hand over his face, and sighed deeply. "My wife, I forgive you, in advance, of any forced infidelity that might occur. I only pray that you tell me about them, and grant me the same courtesy."

She flung her arms around his neck. "Of course… Oh, Kurt, I know you'd never want to be unfaithful, and I forgive you now." The embrace lasted a long time, and when she pulled back, he sighed again. "Something else?" she said.

"_Ja._ I fear they might find… my 'on switch'…" He looked down. "That would appear to them like… I was consenting to be with them."

"We know better," she said. "I learned my lesson. Doing that to you, without your consent is coercion and it doesn't matter what they think."

He nodded and laid his head against hers. "It'd be so much easier if this was a normal marriage, and we didn't have to discuss contingencies… against the certain event of… being raped."

She snorted. "Since when has anything about any of this…" she gestured around them, "our relationship, or situation… been normal? Abnormal IS the norm with us."

"That is the truth, Kätzchen. It's senseless to fret about things that we can't change. But…" he pointed a finger at her. "There is something that we can change about the way we are living. Here we have both been keeping these stains on our souls to ourselves this weekend, and therefore have been making ourselves miserable. And not only ourselves, but our partner as well, because I've been worried about you, as you have been worried about me. I promise to try to talk to you about what is bothering me from now on. We are so close, _liebe_; we can see it in each other. It is better brought out into the open, than kept hidden."

Kitty ducked her head, and nodded. "Okay, I promise not to hide things from you anymore. We'll just have to work them out." She picked up his hand and stroked the soft velvet with a sad smile. "I do feel like a failure. We've only been married a little while, and I've already found something to screw us up."

His hand reached up and caressed her face. "Nonsense, Kätzchen. This is just a course correction; it happens all the time in marriages. People change, circumstances alter, but a living relationship adapts with these changes. I watched a lot of couples in the clans, and they would go through these difficult times. The ones who lasted where the ones who worked it out, together."

"My parents never had talks like this," she said frowning. "And their marriage was fine. Is fine… I hope."

"They never went off alone to their room, or out for a drive, say, for a private talk when things got a little tense?"

"Yeah, but I always thought it was, well, mushy stuff. Not this kind of … course correction."

"Probably a little of both, _mein_ Kätzchen. Clearing the air and dealing with the problems that cause the tensions does tend to lead to the 'mushy stuff', as you say. Although I don't think they did you any favors by concealing from you the give and take of a relationship."

His tail snaked around her waist and squeezed. She pushed at the blue coil, smiling. "Hey, you leave my folks outta this, you… blue fuzzy elf!" The tail just coiled more snugly around her. "They never did anything to you." The tail's end started poking at her sides. "No tickles!"

"How about kisses instead?" he said, tail poised mid-poke.

"Deal. Blackmailer," she mock pouted at him before she let him kiss her.

[*] Name altered a bit from the name that's actually on the cover of the copy that I picked up at a used bookstore. Quoted bits are from pages 332 and 333.


	20. Kitty - Partners: Two Shall be as One

p class="MsoNoSpacing"Kitty - Partners: The Two Shall Be As One/p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing" p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Kitty woke curled behind her husband, her arm draped over his side and her hand loosely holding onto his tail. Sleeping with Kurt was a sensuous experience, her flesh against his soft fur. He warmed her in the night, giving her dreams of velvet twilight.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"She picked up the clock and softly sighed when she was there were only minutes until the alarm. The faint noise of her setting it down was enough to wake him. A faint amber glow picked up the ripples in his pillowcase even before he turned his golden eyes to her.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"He could see the clock from his side, and his sigh echoed hers. "Morning, Kätzchen. Unfortunately." The leathery textured surface of his palm stroked down her arm, and ran over her side, resting there.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Unfortunately?" She looked at his face, the gleam of his eyes picking out the strong lines of his nose and cheekbones, and gave some of his curls a lambent glow, while the rest of his features receded into the dark around them.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""While we dream we are free, emliebeem, or we can be. We can be back home, or in some perfect world where we are still together. It is when we wake, that the true nightmare returns."/p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Yeah. And, oh joy; it's Monday."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Exactly, emliebeem, it's time to face the trainers again." That quieted both of them./p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"The alarm went off, and Kitty turned it off. "I think I'm going crazy, Kurt. And I think it's exactly what they want me to be. I miss her… but… as soon as I threw the knives I wasn't thinking of her as a person, but only as a target. When they had me get my knives, it was like it wasn't Karla anymore. It was just… a corpse." She shuddered, and his hand tightened on her side.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Protection, Kätzchen. Could you have let yourself think of what you've done?"p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""I… didn't want to. I pushed it away. I could learn to be a killer. Learn to be so hard that blood doesn't bother me. I think it's already starting, and I'm scared of myself."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""I accept you. No matter what you've done. No matter what you will do. I trust you. You're a gentle girl; you couldn't even stand to hurt my feelings when you met me, even though you were so frightened by me. You are not to blame for what you are made to do."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""But… it is my hands… and my choices."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Are you really choosing to do these things? If they weren't threatening us, would you do them?"p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Well… no… If I could help it, I wouldn't."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""If you can't help it, because of whatever duress, then… It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. Okay, Kätzchen?"p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"She sighed, and laid her head on his shoulder. "Yeah, I suppose so. Tell me when we have to get up, okay?"p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""emJa, mein schatz. Ich liebe dich.em"/p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""I love you, too."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"* * *p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Kitty arrived at her training room, and put her knives on. The door opened as she put on the last of them, and Agent Combs walked in, followed by Vaile and Kurt. He carried his changing bag, and went into the locker room to store it. He looked good in his leathers, but the knobbed steel gauntlets gave him a menacing air… just as the knives did for her, she was sure.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Howards called for their attention when Kurt returned. "Now you've both achieved mission status, we can get started on joint training. First test: Nightcrawler, port her to the barrier wall over there."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"He stepped closer and put an arm around her waist. He closed his eyes for a moment, and ported them over to where he was told. Combs came over and checked his condition. "She and her gear are well under 170 pounds, which is your current limit. You didn't have any problems porting with her?"p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Kurt shook his head as he stepped away. "No, sir. Not at all."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Very nice," Howards said. "Shadowcat, second test: Phase the both of you through the barrier."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Yes, sir." She put her arm around him, and phased. "Walk slowly and deliberately," she told him. Air walking was a bit tricky, but he moved with her through the wall. On the other side, she made sure no part of them was inside anything, and she let them solidify.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""That was strange," he whispered. His tail shook itself out.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Tell me about it. Porting is weird."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""If you two are quite finished?" Howards said. "Get back to the table, we have a session to undertake here." Technicians were setting up walls and auto guns around the room, as Howards laid out the practice mission for them.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Auto guns are on across the room, with paint pellets. Don't get hit, it's a fail. There are three walls between here and the back corner. You are directed to use various means of getting past them, including a minimum of one port and one phase. Other than that, discretion is permitted. Once you reach the final area, Nightcrawler will disable the security alarms, and retrieve the documents from the safe."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Howards turned to her. "There will be defenders in the last room. Shadowcat, you have to keep them off your partner while he works. To complete the mission, one of you has to come back to the table with the documents. We'll do it at least a couple of times, training time permitting. Is all this understood?"p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"They both nodded, and she tried to commit the plans to memory. The first couple of times they flubbed before the second wall. The sight of him in action distracted her; he dodged the paint balls with a facet of his easy grace that was only now clear to her. He was made to move like that. In the second attempt, he jumped in the way of a pellet barrage that would have flown right through her.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"She waved her arm through him, causing him to back up in surprise. "I can dodge things, too, you know," she said as they went back to get the paint wiped off.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Get serious, you two," Howards snarled. She and Kurt were wiped down by their respective tormentors in a fashion that left little of the implied threats to their imagination. Kitty shuddered at Brestin's hands roaming her with a towel, and Kurt's eyes narrowed as Vaile rubbed a bit harder than necessary on some areas of him. She met his eyes, and he nodded at the look of steely determination on her face.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"The next attempt through together was like silk. They passed the three walls, and Kurt got the security disabled, but when Vail and Brestin jumped out at Kitty with boffers, Kurt turned away from the safe to help her.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Fail!" Combs called. "Nightcrawler, your job here is to open the safe, not to play the hero. Start over and do it again."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Once more at the start line, they evaded the auto guns again, and got to the last area. Kurt disabled the alarms, and then turned to the safe. The trainers engaged Kitty, and she defended him with a fierce determination, boffer in each hand. She was marked up in chalk, but she never managed to receive a killing blow.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Got it," he said, pulling out the packet of papers.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""You go," she hissed. "I'll follow." If I can, she thought, but she knew that he understood that. He ported back to the table and after a few more exchanges; Brestin got a 'death' blow on her.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Kill!" Shouted Brestin. "Got you, girl."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Yes, you did, sir," she said as she got up.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"She came back to the table, where Howards glared at her. "What about your phasing ability?" he asked. "Once the documents were retrieved, you had no business sparring with them anymore. You should have phased and ran. We're not training your to waste your life."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"She winced. That had been stupid. Once more, they ran through the exercise, and once more the trainers leaped out at Kitty. She kept them off of him while Kurt worked on the new safe Combs set up. He ported to her side with the papers, and backhanded Vaile out of the way. "Take them," he said, and grinned. One look at his grin told her what he was up to. She took the packet and ran for the table.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"She handed Howards the papers, and Kurt appeared, marked up with chalk, but satisfied.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Howards frowned at him, this time. "You took a risk in making that hand off, Nightcrawler. A change of possession like that is just one more thing to go wrong."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Yes sir," he said politely, "but I was experimenting with contingencies. We are both able to get out of a mission with a goal such as this, and I was trying to give us experience with the opposite role."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Howards sighed. "Well, I can't fault your logic, or your initiative. And, your orders were vague enough that you could get away with it." He looked at Brestin coming out from the walls, rubbing his arms and sporting a purpling bruise on his face.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""There may come a mission where you are explicitly ordered to leave your partner behind, if the goal is considered valuable enough to sacrifice a Hound for. Keep that in mind. Your connection to each other will not be permitted to interfere with your greater duty to Shield."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"* * *p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"They were sent to shower off. No one came to bother them while they were together, or maybe the trainers were too busy nursing their bruises. They went to dinner, and she felt rather upbeat for once. They had come through a trial together, and she felt like they'd accomplished more than just some stupid training mission.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"She took his hand on the way 'home'. "We really did something today, love. We put our distractions aside and came together in battle."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""If you say so, Kätzchen. I don't feel so optimistic."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""What do you mean? You even got a chance to knock Brestin around."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""emJaem, and my story didn't fool Howards for a bit. He knew what I really wanted to do, and he may even know why. I realized something today, emliebe/em. Our trainers may have carnal lusts for us, but do you honestly think they would pursue them without permission? For example, if Brestin molested you and it hurt your effectiveness as a Hound, he'd be in serious trouble."/p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Kitty stopped in her tracks. "Oh my God."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"He nodded. "If they ever do molest us, it's because someone in Psyche gave them the go ahead. None of this is accidental. But please, don't stop there. We can talk about this in our rooms."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Kitty's face turned grim, and she didn't say another word until their door closed behind them. "Bastards. God damned bastards. What I wouldn't do to kill them all…"p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"He looked concerned. "Have they made you into that much of a killer?"p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""No. Yes. I don't… It's just… all these mind games are enough to make me scream."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Kurt got some juice out of the fridge. "It all goes back to after the last Social, when they found us together. That's when things started to get strange. We know that they are using us against each other, but we couldn't figure out why they let us… no, why they emmadeem us be intimate."/p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Kitty sat down heavily in the chair across from him. "You're saying they wanted us to be together, and since we didn't get that far on our own, they made sure of it? Just to make us more vulnerable to them?"p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""In order to train our powers, they had to take the collars off," he said, looking into his drink. "But without them, there is very little keeping the two of us, in particular of all the Hounds, from taking the proverbial leap off a tall cliff. I could port outside. You could phase. Yes, we would die, but they wouldn't have us anymore. We two are the best suited for a one-way get-away."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""I don't want to die, Kurt. I'm not that far gone."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""But you've thought about it. I know, because I have, too. I can look ahead to a time when the pressures and the pain become too much for me to bear. If it was just myself to worry about…" He didn't have to finish the thought.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""But you have to worry about me now, as I have to worry about you. Damn it! And we played right into their hands." She put her hand into her pocket, and pulled out a neatly tied bit of string. "As if being lovers wasn't enough of a connection, we've made vows to each other. Promises not meant to be broken." She held up the string, studying it.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"He took his own loop of string from a pocket and slipped in on his finger. "I have no regrets. Ever. These weeks with you have made this Hell a little more bearable. What joy I take from this time of my life, comes from you."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Oh, Kurt… I didn't mean…" She hurriedly put on her ring. "I never meant that I wanted to take it back." She got up and went into his arms. "You are my strength. You get me through this. I love you. But knowing this… makes it a little bitter now."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"He kissed her softly. "And for me, emmein liebeem. But it is best to know the nature of the obstacles that face us. I think… that our affection for each other is an object of curiosity to them. They don't understand what love is, so they are picking at our relationship as one studies an insect, seeing how much damage it can take before it dies. They will test our resolve, and tempt our fidelity. They have already begun this. emGott/em, it all makes sense, now."/p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""But they don't know how strong it makes us, and how much we support each other. They don't know that we consider ourselves married. That's gotta be an advantage on our side."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""emJa. Jaem, Kätzchen, that's it! The love and the commitment we have. They only see it as a physical thing, as a weakness to make us vulnerable. But, what we have is spiritual and sacred. It makes us far stronger than it weakens us. They don't know that. They emcan't/em know that."/p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""It's just our little secret, lover," she said, and kissed him. He held her close and lingered at her mouth.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Wait a moment, emliebeem, I want to get something." He ported away, and was back shortly with the little white book./p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"Kitty looked at him. "I looked at that yesterday… I found the part you read for Karla. You… skipped some things when you read it."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""I did," he agreed. "We agree on our God, and we can both agree on the ideal of a Savior, but you are still looking for yours. So, I skipped the bits that specifically mention emmeinem Lord Jesus, in the interest of ministering equally to both of us."/p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Thank you, for that," she said.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"He smiled. "I don't like believers who beat people over the head with the Bible. The scriptures are the bread of God. It is meant to nourish and be enjoyed; not suffered through. Anyway, I'd like to read something from it for us."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Go ahead, love. I'll understand any… ecumenical editing you do."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"He nodded and read, "em'Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted by God. …It is therefore not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God.'em"/p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"He set the book down. "And from my own heart, Kätzchen, I add this. For we each have left our families, and made our lives together. 'The two shall become one', the Bible says. And maybe together we can survive that which would destroy either of us alone."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Amen on that, Kurt." She smiled and took his hand. "Hey, I can think of a good way to spend the rest of the evening…"p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Mm? And what exactly would that be, my emschatzem?" Kitty could see from the bounce of his tail, that he had a darned good idea./p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""Well," she said, and unzipped her jumpsuit to a daring level. "I'm sure we can think of something… And just for a little while, we can forget about this place."p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing""I'm all for that, my wife. We have been too tense, for too long." He turned out the light, and led her to their bed.p  
>p class="MsoNoSpacing"-End Act 2.p 


	21. Kurt & Kitty - Vignettes in Torment

ACT 3

_For eight months they were allowed to live together; months in which their bond only became deeper. Time where they trained and went on missions together, but never just the two of them, alone. Despite everything, it also time where being a Hound became a bearable thing to be._

_However, changes were happening to the Hound program that they weren't aware of…_

_Kurt:_

Kurt and Kitty finished their training program of the day. A man they didn't know entered the room. He stood with their trainers, wearing major's insignia, and the symbols of the Psych department.

"My name is Major Rudolf, and you are now in my care." Kurt thought his name was most fitting. He was indeed red-haired, and he had an air of the predator about him, especially the way that he smiled so easily, but it never quite reached his eyes.

He displayed his toothy smile to them. "The records I have on you two show you've been given extraordinary privileges, and yet, I don't see that you have yielded extraordinary results. Now that my illustrious predecessor has been promoted to headquarters, I've been given the mission to get the most out of the Hound assets of this Carrier."

He walked around the two of them, surveying the dark leather suits, emblazoned with a torso-length 'H' of a Hound, as if their respective facial markings didn't mark them well enough. His eyes marked Kurt's feet and tail, and strayed over Kitty's developing curves.

"The grotesque German and the Jewess mutant," he said, and snorted. "There may have been a rationale for your special treatments in the past, but I don't see the need for them anymore. Your initial placement together resulted in a nice improvement in your efforts, but I believe the program is better served by separating you, now. The Socials are there for a reason, so if you earn it, you can still meet again, the same as the other Hounds. There are reports your permissive circumstances have hurt morale of the other Hounds."

Kurt's throat worked silently, and he swallowed hard. He could hear Kitty's teeth grinding together.

"As of today Nightcrawler, you are remanded back to your dorms. Your things will be delivered by dinnertime. You will work with a new detail. Shadowcat, your current living assignment is unchanged and you'll start working in the disposal department. Your training will resume separately, with some new trainers." He turned to the waiting trainers.

"Howards, Combs, you'll be given new subjects. Brestin and Vaile are now the senior trainers, and are hereby given full discretion, under my new guidelines. Am I understood?"

Agent Brestin smiled broadly. "Yes sir, thank you sir."

They were sent to the showers. His tail dragged low to the ground. He couldn't look at her; as much as much he'd feared this moment, it was incredibly painful when it came. Kitty kept her eyes on him, her tears washed away by the water.

They went to dinner in silence, hand in hand. The misery that exuded from them seemed vastly amusing to Brad, because he appeared to be in a jovial mood. The glare they jointly threw at him only made him laugh harder.

He was met at the door by a security guard with his trunk. Kurt stepped to embrace her, and the guard shook his head. Instead he gave her a searing look and a touch of his fingers to his lips, before he was forced to turn away.

_Kitty:_

She returned to the quarters, and wandered through the rooms. His trunk was gone, but his toothbrush and comb were still in the bathroom, she supposed that he'd be issued new ones. Her fingers stroked over them, while tears streaked down her face.

When she went to bed, she curled up around his pillow, and sobbed for hours. In the morning she walked down the hall she'd seen him walk so many times, when a man in workman's garb came from the other direction.

"Hello, girl," he said. "Would you be Shadowcat?"

"Yes sir." He must have come to guide her to the workplace.

"Aw, don't 'sir' me. I'm Joe, and you're supposed to come with me."

"Yes… Joe. He… told me a lot about you." She fell into step with him.

"I've heard him go on about you, too. He sure loves ya a lot."

She swallowed hard, and tried not to start crying. He stopped in the hallway, and fished a hanky from his pocket. "Oh, hey. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. Painful subject, huh?"

"You could say that," she said. She scrubbed her face with the handkerchief, and pulled herself back together.

"You okay now? Okay, here we go. You ever sort recyclables back home?"

"Yes… yeah." The 'sir' world was so ingrained; it was hard not to say, even to a workman.

"Well, this is a lot like that. Cans here, glass there; and then it gets subdivided. Stuff that burns gets bundled together in this machine, and one of the guys takes it to the furnace room. That's where a lot of our hot water comes from, ya know?"

"I didn't know that." And she couldn't make herself sound very interested, either.

"Well, I'll leave ya to it. All the bins are marked, so it should be easy. Look, I'm not a hard ass, so… don't work too hard, 'kay?"

"I won't, Joe. I just… need some time."

"Gotcha. Just do yer five hours, and get used to the smell. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

_Kurt:_

"If it ain't the 'too good for you guys' altar-boy. Welcome back, I missed you." Brad's smile showed he remembered the thumpings Kurt had given him in their joint practices, and meant to get some interest. But Kurt was much more assured of himself and his powers. Before lights out, he'd memorized the room, and stretched out his spatial senses for the exact dimensions. After lights out, he waited, feigning sleep.

An instant before the first blow landed, he ported, leaving his attackers to choke on the fumes. From the top of an empty bunk across the room, he watched their confusion.

"Where'd the fuck he'd go?"

"He's over there," Brad said. "You can see his eyes…"

_Bamf. _"Now, I'm over here. BOO!" The darkness made it simple. He was far faster than Brad, who was the only one who stood even a slight chance of catching him, and others were easy targets. Anyone who stayed in their bunks, he left alone, as well as those who wisely left the fray, but the rest of them felt his fury.

_Click_. The lights came on to the sound of one last port. "What's going on here?" shouted the guard.

Kurt sat up on his bunk like those who'd been awakened by the lights. No bruises would show on his knuckles, and the sprawled attackers couldn't exactly explain why they were all out of their bunks, or why most of them needed minor medical attention.

The guard herded out those who were bleeding, and wrote down the names or training numbers of those who caught out of their bunks. He looked at Kurt, whose bunk was the epicenter of the disturbance, but he only got a shrug in return.

Kurt's sleep wasn't interrupted at night anymore in the dorms.

_Kitty:_

They were training separately again. Kitty had exceeded Brestin's combat skills a few months ago, but she continued sparring with experts in other martial arts styles. Her new senior trainer seemed to be playing it straight, following the game plan Howards had used, until he told her to hit the showers early.

She was nearly done washing when Brestin came in. "Follow me, Hound. No, don't bother with a towel, you won't need it." Nude and dripping wet, she did what he said. He took her to a massage table, covered with a sheet. "Lay down on your back."

He was still fully dressed when he pulled out his cock and put on a condom. "I've been waiting to get into your pussy, little girl," he said with a smirk. "You be nice, and nothing will happen to your little blue friend."

She shivered in tension, and looked away when he climbed on top of her. He did nothing for her enjoyment; he just used her, thrusting firmly inside her until he was done.

"That's a good girl. Mm, you got a sweet snatch. Maybe I'll bring Tyler along the next time we do this little exercise." He pulled off the sodden condom and tossed it onto her belly. He chuckled as he straightened his clothes. "You go get cleaned up, Hound. Don't wanna be late for dinner with your boyfriend."

Her hands clenched into fists as he walked away. She picked up the soiled rubber and threw it into the trash. Murderous rage burned in her eyes when she went back to the shower room.

_Kurt:_

By Major Rudolf's directive, they were to be treated like all the other Hounds. That included dinner in the Missions dining room. This was the one place mixed gender of Hounds were allowed to meet outside of the Socials. Kurt waited for her; anxious after a day without her presence. Brad scowled when he entered, stitches visible over one eye, and under the other.

Kurt ignored him, and as soon as he saw Kitty, he knew something was wrong. She stalked down the corridor, angry eyes flashing. "Kätzchen?"

She turned to him, her look softening, and gave him a brief hug. PDA wasn't permitted here, and no extended contact was allowed. They got their food and ate while talking.

"The contingency… has happened," she said. "Brestin."

He closed his eyes in pain. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, not at all," she said. "Not at all."

She sounded confused, angry, and… resentful? "Is anything else wrong?"

She sighed. "No, love. And if this is the kind of thing that's going to happen, I can handle it. It makes me angry, but that's about it."

He cocked his head in confusion, but she just shook hers.

"I'll be okay," she said. "But just be aware, they've been given the go-ahead."

"I will, _liebe_, not that there's anything I can do about it."

"I know. Neither can I. We just have to live with it."

_Kitty:_

"Joe… I thought of something that might help me."

"Hey, if I can, sweets. What is it?"

"Can you get me a journal, or some kind of blank book? I used to be able to talk to him about what was bugging me, but I see him so seldom, now."

"You know that anything you write down, they can and will look at."

"That's okay, I'll mostly be writing to myself, I guess. I just gotta get it out of my system and not let things curdle up inside of me."

"Sure, I can do that. Come talk to me tomorrow."

He gave her a package the next day. In it was a fat journal and a set of pens. They looked new, and she had the feeling he'd bought them special for her.

While it was true they could and would read the book, they had to _find_ it, first. When she wasn't actually writing in it, she kept it in the secret stash in the intersections of beams, nearly a hundred feet high up in the Hull space. In it she could put all the things she needed to tell him, but that she didn't have the time or the privacy to say.

'_Dear Kurt,_

'_I know you were confused by how I was acting, but that just wasn't a good place to tell you what is really wrong. No, he didn't hurt me. It didn't last long enough to hurt, or for anything else, either._

'_I've been spoiled by you, but in a good way. You always take such care to make sure that making love is always good for me that I had a skewed idea of what sex is._

'_I thought it would always be good, and I didn't want that to happen with anyone but you. But… the bastard didn't do anything to me, or for me. He just used me to come in, and it was over when he was done._

'_I guess… in a weird, sick way, I was frustrated, and it's only going to get worse. He's using me as a sex object, and I can tolerate that, but it makes me miss you and your touch, so much…_

'_Nothing he does will change how I feel for you._

'_I love you always,_

'_Kitty.'_

_Kurt:_

Kurt knew what was coming. First of all, Captain Brand, Vaile's friend from Psych was present for his training. Secondly, he could read the looks they were giving him during the session. When he was finished with the exercises and the weights, the junior trainer was dismissed.

They followed him into the dressing room, and Vaile smiled coolly. "Hello, Blue. Now that you've worked so hard, it's time for a little play."

They bracketed him. "Get undressed," Brand said.

He took off his combat boots and gloves, and then took off his leathers. He stood there in his stark white boxers. They giggled at the contrast it made against his dark fur. His tail twitched slightly from side to side, projecting his nervousness. "All of it," Vaile said when they could stop chuckling.

He sighed and slipped the garment off, then straightening. Months living with Kätzchen had cemented what his mother had always told him; that his form, though quite different, was beautiful in its own way. He stood poised, unconscious grace and self-pride evident in his posture.

He accentuated his differences, rising to the balls of his feet and flexing his rear toes. Any hope of repulsing them with his mutation was quickly dashed, when they reached in to stroke his body. Their hands rubbed through his nap, loosening where it had been matted flat by the leathers.

He was unmoved by their attentions. He knew that the whole situation was false, that this abuse had been crafted by so-called psychologists as part of the continuing efforts to degrade and manipulate him. That fact turned him coldly off what was normally a sensual and erotic experience for him.

"Well, look who's being a bad boy." Brand said.

"We'll just have to work on that," Vail said. She rummaged in a carry-bag, and took out a choke collar and a leash.

"You mustn't forget the lash," Brand said, grinning.

"Oh, yes. The lash." Vaile pulled out a braided whip that was somewhere between a toy lash, and a real bullwhip. He sighed again. It was going to be a long time until dinner…

_Kitty:_

'_Dear Love,_

'_There is blood on my hands again. I was on a mission with Brad, hunting down a rogue mutant. I could only barely sympathize with the guy. Mutants may be getting a raw deal, but that's no cause to be murdering school children._

'_He called himself The Culler, the sick bastard. I guess he felt if he killed all the normal's children, all that would be left would be the mutants. All I could think about was that not too long ago, I would have been one of the kids in those schoolyards._

'_His power was heat force. Not fire, but sheer radiated heat, projected from his hands. I'm glad that you didn't come, 'cause fur is real flammable, and besides, you get along with Brad even worse than I do. We were taken to a morgue where they had one of the children's bodies._

'_The boy was charred halfway through him, from where the guy laid his hand on the kid's head. That was enough for Mr. Stalker to get a read on his power, and started to track. After a while, we found him._

'_Brad's charged nets did nothing to him; he just burned through them. He couldn't burn my knives, they must be heat-treated. I had to keep phasing so he couldn't blast me, and I couldn't get too close to him. Finally Brad caught him with a tear-gas grenade. (Watch out for him to use those, by the way, they're new.)_

'_I put a dagger in his neck while he was rubbing his eyes. The neck wound distracted him, and the Shield forces finally cut him down with their guns. The by-standers cheered Shield, but they only taunted us. They had to get us out of there in a hurry. Those people really hated mutants, and I couldn't really blame them for it. All those kids…_

'_I feel sorry for the guy; because of the way he was twisted by this warped society. But I could never condone what he was doing. So yes, I killed him. I'm not sorry about it either, he needed to be stopped. But on the other hand, I'm not happy about it, either._

'_I hope you can understand this,_

'_Love you desperately, Kitty.'_

_Kurt:_

It had been a month since they were separated, and he'd been forbidden to attend the Social. After dinner on the Monday after, guards with their trunks confronted them. The senior one spoke to them. "By order of Major Rudolf, your assignments are being switched. You, are to go to the women's dorms, and you, are to go back to that hole in the wall of yours."

Kitty smiled faintly at him, and left with the guard who'd brought her trunk.

Kurt followed his escort back to the quarters below. It was mostly as he'd left it, but there were some things that told him of her loneliness. His comb and toothbrush were unmoved in all this time, just as he remembered. On their bed, his pillow was arranged to lie beside her, giving her some illusion of his presence.

It wasn't until he went back to his accustomed perch on the beam that he found what she'd left for him. At the base of the steel column where he kept his stash of treasures, a pillow and blanket had been lashed to the beam with cord. Curious, he looked inside the girder intersection, and found a plain thick book, and a collection of pens that hadn't been there before.

Most of the book was filled with pages of blank lines. On the inside cover, was a note. 'Thank Joe for this gift, love, he got it for us. You were right, by the way, he is a sweetheart.'

He settled down on the pillow with the book, breathing in the scent of her that clung to these things. He read the words she'd written to him, some of them colored by her anger and disgust at this place, and others full of her love and longing for him.

He added to the collection of tearstains that marked the pages as he read. When he finished what she'd put there, he took one of the pens, and began to think of what to write back to her. He had so many things he needed to tell her. Brad, and the fight in the barracks, how much he missed her in the night, and the thing that was happening with Vaile and Brand.

'_Dearest Kätzchen,_

'_What a wonderful idea, and what a wonderful place to hide it. I have much to tell you about, since the last time we were able to speak freely to each other…'_

_Kitty:_

Another month, another transfer of assignments. It was draining both of them to live like this. She could see in the mirror, the way her face was drawn and shadowed. She saw it in him, too. He was rail thin, despite how much he ate, and his fur looked… patchy.

No one grumbled about them getting privileges, anymore. It was obvious that the special attention directed at the two of them was nothing to envy. It was also clear that the only thing keeping them functioning even fairly normally, had been each other.

The other Hounds shut up Brad when he made sarcastic comments, and they were ignored when they clung to each other during dinner. Someone in charge must have noticed, too, because their respective tormentors eased up on them a little.

Kitty took a flashlight and a blanket to the beam. He had to have found the journal; this was his favorite place. She settled on her cushion, and opened the book with trembling hands.

Yes!

He'd found it, for there on the pages after hers were his thoughts, his feelings, and his responses to what she'd written. His spidery script was sometimes hard to read, and he had a habit of putting German vowel marks in words that didn't need them, but she could understand it well enough.

His writing told her what the last two months had been like for him. She learned about the incident with Brad… why that snotty bully! He deserved those stitches. She hoped they hurt a lot. He also detailed his sessions with his own tormentors, and how they humiliated him, putting him on leash and collar.

She read how much he loved and missed her. He hadn't known what to say about her mission. What the man was doing was wrong, without doubt, but he wished there was some other way he could have been dealt with. Still, he accepted her, and always would.

It was too late to write back to him tonight, so she put it away, and went to bed. On the bed stand was his remaining Old Spice, and a note. 'If they change us up again, as I think they will, use this on my pillow. That way you can keep my scent with you, as I kept yours with me.'

Kitty cried, and sprinkled the cologne on his pillow, as he'd suggested. She hugged it fiercely to her as she fought her way to sleep.

[A/N - I know I pour on the Angst pretty hard in this story, but just to let you readers know, this is the lowest ebb. From now on, things gradually start to get better.]


	22. Kurt - Blood Stains

At the end of the third month they were separated, Kurt was brought unexpectedly to a Mission briefing room. Kitty was there, but when he tried to greet her, the Mission leader interrupted him. "Pay attention to the briefing, Hounds, both of you."

They both nodded, but Kurt knew it was hard for anyone to tell just where his eyes were looking, and he made use of that advantage. Kitty looked pale and strung out… and as twitchy as he felt himself. He didn't know how long either of them would be able to live like this.

The leader started the briefing. _Blah, blah._ This was of utmost importance to Shield. _So what?_ They were to hit the compound of a man designated a traitor to Shield. He was a well-placed officer, and son of a ranking General. His crime was he'd married a woman who recently revealed to be a mutant, and had two young children by her. The objective were to arrest the disgraced officer, apprehend the mutant and her spawn, and seize any papers or effects that might link the man to the mutant resistance.

To one side, Kurt was given a rundown on what kind of security the compound had, and on the other, Kitty and the combat specialists were briefed on the number of guards at the estate, and their armament. This mission was evidently very urgent, as the target might learn at any moment that he'd been discovered. They were concerned he'd disappear north, with his family, where the renegade terrorist Fury was rumored to lair.

As soon as their briefings were over, they were loaded onto separate planes, and launched. A technician placed the expected explosive collar on him. If he got too far away, boom. If he somehow got it off, hers went boom. Clear? He nodded. That was very clear.

The compound was near Atlanta, Georgia. They landed in the evening, and the teams boarded a series of vans and trucks for the last leg of the journey. In the hours between midnight and dawn, Kurt crawled over the wall near the rear gate. He _bamfed_ into the guardhouse and swiftly knocked the men unconscious. He neutralized the alarms and opened the gates for the vehicles.

He was on his way for his next job at the house, when he heard silenced gunshots from the guardhouse. He blended with the shadows, and teleported to get in close to the estate building, near a wiring box. He picked the small padlock and clipped through the electrical lines, killing power for most of the house. Now he would be in his element.

He watched from high up on the exterior walls, as Kitty and the combat team skirted the compound's perimeter with night-vision goggles, taking out any patrols. When the outer area was clear, they went inside the house, looking for resistance or sign of their targets. He shadowed the group with his beloved in it, from the ceiling and upper walls.

She was holding back when she could; injuring when she had to, and letting the agents do most of the work. If he saw anyone unseen threatening her team, he would drop down like a hunting cat, and knock them out. The agents he didn't care about, but he didn't want Kitty to get hurt.

She must have heard him one the times he intervened, because her glowing lenses turned his way. He widened his eyes and smiled toothily at her, she nodded and turned to catch up with her team. In the core of the house, the team found people destroying documents. The leader whispered, "Split up, people, time is of the essence here."

Kitty headed off alone, and again he followed her from on high. His job in this phase of the operation was to support, but just who he was to support was unspecified. In other hallways they could hear reinforced doors being battered down by hand held rams. She didn't have one, but then, she didn't need one either. When she found a barricaded door, she stopped and looked around for him. He dropped beside her, and she pointed at the door. He reached for his lock picks, and she stepped through the obstacle.

He could hear voices on the other side, high pitched. It was the sound of panic maybe, or of children. He focused on getting the lock open, knowing Kitty would have removed anything placed that physically barred the door. He heard the lock click, and pushed the heavy door open to a tense tableau lit by scarlet emergency lights.

Two small children huddled behind a sleep-disheveled woman in nightclothes, who was holding Kitty back at gunpoint. The opening of the door drew the woman's gaze, and her aim wavered. Kitty took a step forward, her goggles hanging from their straps. The woman focused her attention again on her. Kurt leaped the outside wall up to the ceiling, and flipped into the chamber over the upper lintel. He began to silently creep across the room's ceiling to get behind the panicky female.

"What are you doing here?" the woman said. "You're a mutant, why do you want to hurt these children?"

"I'm a Hound," Kitty said. "I don't want to hurt them, but my orders are to take them into custody. I cannot disobey."

"You could just run away, disappear," the woman said. "I saw how you got into here. They can't hold you."

Kitty pointed at her neck. "Explosive collar. If I get too far away, then I lose my head. Literally." Kurt was easing down the wall behind them now, and he saw her eyes flick towards him. "So, tell me, are these your children?"

"Mine? No," the woman said. "I'm their nurse and guard. And I won't let you take them from their parents."

"Lookit the funny man!" the smaller of the two kids said, pointing behind them.

Kurt froze on the wall, as the woman backed up where she could see both of them, dragging the bigger child, a boy, with her. The smaller one, a girl, stared up at him fearlessly, and didn't seem to notice the other two had moved away from her. He stepped to the floor besides her, and picked her up. Carrying her behind Kitty, he put her down in a chair. "Stay there, please," he said. "We don't want you to get hurt."

She smiled. "You talk funny. Emmy, Dunc'n, he talks funny!"

The woman snarled silently. "I know what they'll do to them… and to her. It's better than they die now, then to be subject to that." The gun turned towards the boy… and time and motion seemed to slow…

…_Shitk._ A dagger popped into Kitty's hand, and she raised it to throw…

…The girl behind them screamed in sudden terror…

…The boy's eyes turned as large as saucers as the snub-nosed pistol aimed at his head…

Kitty's arm snapped forward, and he ported, ducking down low to fit into the space between the woman and the boy. If he had to interpose his body to take the bullet, so be it. The blade slammed home as he wrapped the boy in his embrace. He heard the gun go off, and a hot brand slid over his shoulder. The boy trembled in his arms, and started whimpering against him.

"Are you okay, Kurt?" Kitty's voice was hoarse with worry. He turned to look at her and nod. She was shivering, and her faced was turned a deathly pale around the Hound tattoo.

"My shoulder's creased, but nothing major."

"Good. Take them out of here. I have to… get my blade."

"Understood." He rose with the boy in his arms, and shifted him over to one hip. Walking over to the girl, he held out an arm, and she surged up to him. He carried them both into the dark corridor, and waited while they clung to his shadowy form.

Kitty walked out, her goggles back in place, and she adjusted her wrist sheaths. "Kurt… look here. I found it… in a pocket."

He stepped nearer, and saw she held in her hand a coin. An engraved 'M' was on one side, and a red and purple Greek helm on the other. "That's what I saw before, _liebe_. The very same thing."

"It's probably evidence… but, I don't care." She put it in a buckle of her leathers, and snapped it in two. A curl of smoke rose, and the sides turned a charcoal black. She dropped the pieces in the foliage of a potted plant, and turned to him. "Where are the others?"

He cocked his head, listening. "This way." He wrapped his tail around Kitty's hand to lead her along; her grip was clammy and tight. The four of them walked through the dark halls; the only sounds were the sniffles of the children and her soft footfalls.

They came into a large red-lit room, and a weeping woman called out. "Duncan, Rose!" They reached out to her, saying as one, "Mommy!" Kurt held them tightly despite their squirming until he reached the woman's side, then he crouched and set them gently down. They clung to her, crying, each babbling a different version about what happened to 'Emmy'.

"Shut those brats up!" the mission leader snarled. Their mother hushed them, and the three watched sadly as the battered, but breathing, form of the family's father was laid down near them. "Good, we got the traitor, the mutie, and the kids, so that's all of them. Any remaining resistance?"

"No sir, we're processing evidence now," said one of the other agents.

"All right. Hounds, you're done now. Sit over there and be quiet."

"_Jawohl_," he said, and nudged Kitty out of her daze to sit with him near the prisoners. He watched her, concerned. She needed a good cry, but she wasn't withdrawing, not fully anyway. She was understandably upset about what she'd had to do. He drew her next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. Her hand found his and squeezed desperately.

Kurt looked up as he felt the woman's eyes on them. She looked at him, then at her as if looking for something, but what, he couldn't tell. She nodded slightly, and said to them quietly. "You two are little better than kids yourselves, aren't you? Despite what they've done to your faces, I can see it."

Bitterness quirked his mouth. "_Ja_, that is so, but we feel much older than we are."

"There's so much pain in both of you," she said. "What happened to Emma?" She nodded down to the sleepy children, "They either didn't see, or didn't understand."

"She held a gun on my partner," Kurt said. "When Rose saw me, and Emma knew she was outnumbered, she… turned the weapon on the boy."

"I stopped her. I had to," Kitty said flatly. Where only the woman could see, she snapped a blade into her hand, and flipped it into a throwing grip.

"I see." She looked down to the sandy haired head of the boy snuggled against her. "Thank you, for that. At least I get to see them and hold them, before…"

Kitty made a strangled noise that sounded like it started out to be a sob. She busied herself with putting her knife away and locking it in place.

He curled his tail around her waist and pulled her closer. "Come here, _liebe_. Rest with me, before they make us part again." She leaned closer, and buried her face against his neck.

"She's so sad. Is she gonna cry?" Rose said.

"Maybe later," he told her. "When she's alone. She doesn't like to cry in front of others." He could feel the warmth of Kitty's breath on his neck fur. He kissed her hair, breathing in deep. It had been so long…

"Even in front of you?" the girl said.

The child was like a mastiff after a hare. "She cries in front of me, when we are alone together," he said finally. "But we haven't been alone together lately. We are prisoners, like you are. We have no say in what we do."

"Up and at 'em Hounds." One of the Shield lieutenants had come over to them. His lip curled as if confronted with something particularly disgusting. "If you can peel apart from each other, that is. We're heading out."

"_Jawohl, mein Herr_," Kurt said. He helped Kitty to rise, and then took a deliberate step away from her. She squared her shoulders and looked up, a mask of composure firmly in place. Back at the vehicles, they were placed in separate vans for the long trip back.

After touchdown on the Carrier, Kurt was told to wait on the flight deck. He leaned against a wall until he heard shouting from the other plane. "…damned freak is gonna scrub my deck until it shines! The nerve of her, throwing up on my plane. And the way it reeked, even after the bitch tried to clean it…"

Uh oh. Kitty must have had a reaction. Kurt hunted for a janitor's closet and got out some cleaning supplies. He presented himself to the irate pilot, who was still chewing her out. She stood at attention near the transport, eyes downcast. He cleared his throat and the man rounded on him angrily, before turning pale and stepping back.

"Gah! What kinda…" He swallowed hard, and Kurt couldn't help but to smile tightly. "Fine, you help the clumsy freak clean up my airplane. He stalked off; muttering to himself, "Worst part of the job, dealing with all the damned muties."

"And _Auf Wiedersehen_ to you, too, _mein Her_r…" Kurt murmured. "Here _liebchen_, you take some of this, _bitte_." She grabbed the mop and the jug of cleanser, and trudged back to the plane where she'd just endured a several hours-long flight. All the hatches were opened, and it still smelled like vomit. "You really did a number on this plane. What have you been eating?"

"I haven't been. This was just bile, and water." She poured the cleaner full strength into the bucket and soaked the mop into it. She started grimly scrubbing at the soiled spot.

"Hey! You!" said a muffled voice.

Kitty barely twitched, but Kurt turned to the open hatch. A flight deck worker stood there, one hand covering his nose and mouth, the other holding some dark plastic sheeting. He walked over to the worker, whose eyes got larger the closer he got. "May I help you?"

"Um. The pilot says there's a load of bio trash aboard. Uh. Get it for me."

"Anything you say," Kurt said. The cleaner Kitty was liberally applying to the floor was helping to counter the odor of sickness, but even through it, he was able to find the trash bin along with the paper towels she'd used to wipe things up. Months in Disposal inured him to most stenches, but he still made a face as he carried the bagged materials out to the man.

The worker held out the sheeting; it was a heavy-gauge trash bag, and Kurt dropped his bag inside. It was quickly sealed and the man made his getaway.

Kurt took some fresh toweling, dipped them lightly in the solution, and started to wipe the surface of everywhere he could reach, which was nearly everywhere. When he finished, the only places he could still detect the stink of what happened, were on Kitty herself and the mop she'd used.

"Hang on, _Kätzchen_. Let me dump out that bucket and rinse the mop. If you go over it one more time after that, you should be done."

She stopped, and wearily sat on a bench. "Okay."

He took the mop and bucket back to the closet and rinsed them out thoroughly. Then he hurried back to the plane. He wasn't sure he trusted her to be alone, and even beyond that, he would take any opportunity to be with her, even while doing this.

She put a bit more cleanser in the bucket, and gave the wet mop another good pass over the section of floor. He stepped over to her with a cleanser-dampened towel, and wiped off the chest of her leathers, where she'd splattered bile on herself. He took an exploratory sniff, and smiled. "We're done, I don't smell anything anymore."

"Then… I guess we have to put this stuff away." She looked terribly tired, and groaned when she stumbled, heading for the hatch.

He wanted to weep at the state she was in, or to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. He could do neither, so he steadied her, and took some of the cleaning supplies from her for the trip back to the closet. Just outside the narrow door, they were confronted by a group of agents. Their senior trainers, Major Rudolf, and… the General himself stood by, watching them.

Kitty nodded in bare acknowledgement of their presence, and went into the closet with Kurt to put the cleaning supplies away. Then she came out and dropped to her knees in front of them, her head sagging. He joined her on his knees, unable to keep his tail from twitching in anxiety. The Major looked down at them, his eyes glittering with an unreadable expression. "You're not done, Hounds, there are stains on your equipment. See to cleaning it." Kurt nodded, and he and Kitty went back in, but he kept his ears open.

"Major, the last time I saw these two, their morale was good, considering, and they each had another 20-40 pounds more weight on them. Now, they look like they're headed for illness or nervous breakdowns. Your treatment policies are not supposed to be counter-productive to their effectiveness." The General sounded distinctly displeased to Kurt.

He whispered, "_Kätzchen_, wash your blades."

"Sir, they performed well today, exceeding expectations," The Major said, his voice slightly tense.

He ran water in the sink, and Kitty frowned in concentration, as she bent to the task. Over the sound of running water, he strained to listen to the voices outside.

"Exceeding yours expectations, perhaps, but not mine. They do better when they're not eaten up with tension. The doctor believes she's showing signs of developing ulcers, and according to the combat medic, there was blood in what she spewed on the plane. I'm giving you a chance to fix this, Major. Don't disappoint me."

"Yes, sir. Brestin, Vaile, obviously you were given too much responsibility, too soon." Kurt smirked. He'd bet they resented the hell out of that; they were only doing what he'd given them a blank check to do… but blame rolled down hill. "You're dismissed." He heard the sound of salutes and receding footsteps. "They will be assigned new trainers immediately, sir." Kurt took off his gauntlets and worked at cleaning dried blood and bits of skin from between the jointed plates.

"Correction," the General said. "Headquarters wants them treated as a single combat unit. Deal with them as partners, and not as separate Hounds. As for trainers, give 'em back Howards and Combs, and them only. Those two were tough but fair on them.

"Yes, sir, that shall be done immediately. Do you… wish them to resume their former living assignments?" Rudolf's tone was strained and bitter. Kurt held his breath for the answer.

"You mean those _exceptional_ arrangements that I personally authorized and endorsed?" The General's voice was deceptively soft. "Yes, I think that will be best. Have them both take their work shift at Disposal, also. They don't need to be scrambling all over the ship to get to their workplaces." The General made a thoughtful sound. "Give them the rest of the day and tomorrow off, and they are to report to the clinic in lieu of work on Monday. I want them back up to peak as soon as possible. Headquarters has plans for them, long term plans. So you will kindly pass any policies concerning them to my office before implementation. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly, sir." More footsteps receding, and the door opened. "Are you done, Hounds?"

"I need the oil, so they won't rust," Kitty said. The Major scowled at the lack of honorific.

Kurt turned off the water. "They've been cleaned in water, sir, but we could use the oil that was in the missions room."

"Very well, see to that, and your trunk will be delivered shortly, Nightcrawler. When you're done, you're dismissed for the day."

"Yes, sir, Major." He led her to the missions briefing room, where their supplies were still laid out, and handed her the bottle of cleaning oil. He worked the lubricating oil into the joints of his metal gloves. When he'd restored the condition as best as he could, he laid them on the table. "Take the knives off, _liebe_. It's almost time to go home."

"Home…" she echoed. He judged her to be out on her feet, but she still laid the blades out in a precise order. Her suit looked strange with all the loops and pockets emptied out. She unstrapped the wrist sheaths, and turned to the changing room.

"Just change clothes, _Kätzchen_, we can bathe when we get there."

She nodded and peeled off the cat suit. He frowned at how thin she was, although he knew his own condition was little better. He put his arm around her once they were back in their jumpsuits, and she seemed content to simply lean against him, as he led her home.

Two people waited for them at their door. Combs had his trunk, and Howards was pushing another hand trolley loaded up with food containers. And not just any kind of food; there were two jugs of whole milk, fresh strawberries and eggs, and boxes of frozen steaks. The General seemed to be very serious about getting them up to condition quickly.

Combs shook his head. "You two look like hell," he said, his voice gruff and flat.

"Thank you for noticing, sir," Kurt said. "We feel like hell."

Howards held out a paper. "This is from the clinic. It's a high protein, medium carbohydrate diet plan for the both of you." He snorted. "It's even sorta kosher, or at least, it lists her as being 'allergic' to pork. Keep her on the milk, use the pepto for stomach pains, and if you notice any more unusual bleeding, take her to the clinic right away."

"Yes, sir," Kurt said. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" He opened the door, and half led, half carried her inside and into a chair in the kitchenette. She put her head on the table, cushioned on her arms. Kurt hauled in the trunk, and unloaded the trolley around her and on every available bit of counter space. "Is there anything else, sirs?"

"No, carry on, and get some rest, you two," Combs said.

"I was planning on it, sir." He closed the door quietly as they walked away. She was trying to put things away in the fridge, and he took over that chore, finishing quickly. He crouched down next to her. "Do you want to wash up tonight, or wait until tomorrow?"

She looked down at her hands and watched them tremble. "Tomorrow… I'm just so tired."

"Alright, _liebe_, tomorrow it is. Come on, now. It's time to rest."

In the bedroom, he smiled at the scent of Old Spice on his pillow. He switched it with hers, because it would be too strong for him to sleep on. He snuggled her next to him, feeling a lump in his throat at the rightness of her being there.

He thought she might break down and cry, but he was only half-right. She didn't have the energy for hysterics, so she pressed her face against his warm side and cried softly, but steadily until she fell asleep. He held her close for a long time after that, until sleep claimed him too.


	23. Kitty - Revelations

The familiar scent of Old Spice was the first thing Kitty was aware of. Only secondly did the purring rumble and warmth of her husband register as well. Her eyes snapped open, and she reached with desperate longing for his velvet-covered form. She scritched through the fur with her fingers, and rubbed against his back with her face, taking in his natural musk.

His shoulders shook with mirth and he turned in place to catch her hands, and meet her mouth in a warm kiss. That stilled her, and she relaxed into it, tasting him as she had so longed to do. To be here with him, to hold him so closely… Except for her nightmares, she'd dreamed of little else for months.

He broke the kiss, chuckling. "Good morning, Kätzchen. I missed you, too."

She pouted at him. "Missed you…? Love, 'missed' is way too weak a word for the way I've felt about you." She leaned up to kiss him again, urgently, her hands roaming him, holding him tightly.

"Easy, Kätzchen… I'm not going anywhere."

"Good, because I need you, Fuzzy, desperately." She reached down between them, and he intercepted her hand.

"Please, Kätzchen… let's take this slowly… a lot has happened since the last time…"

Kitty froze, stiff with tension. Her voice was cold when she answered him. "Does this have anything to do with what was done to us while we were apart?"

Kurt frowned. "Yes, it does, _liebe_, but what…"

She rolled away from him and threw back the covers. "As if I had any choice in what they did? I thought you'd understand that." She stood up, and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

She ran the bath, shaking in need and fury. She'd been so afraid of this, that he'd reject her for being… impure. She slipped into the steaming water, and fought back tears. Her dreams had become her nightmares.

Kurt came into the bathroom with mugs of hot chocolate. She kept her gaze away from his elegant nudity. "A peace offering, _liebe_. I think we are misunderstanding each other again."

She ignored the cocoa, as tempting as it smelled to her empty belly. "What's to misunderstand? I'm soiled goods, now."

He sat on the edge and splashed water with his tail. "_Und_ I am not? We were both molested, _liebe_. What happened to you was not the reason I need to you to go slow. No, it was… what happened to me."

"Their fetish games? Sounded kinky to me." She looked at him finally, and his agitation was obvious.

"It was beyond kink. It was sadism fit to warm the black heart of de Sade. I don't… I don't even know… if I can even… function, _liebe_."

She leaned towards him, and took his free hand. "It was that bad?"

"_Ja_, it was that bad. Aversion conditioning can be nasty stuff."

Kitty sat back and picked up the cocoa, sipping. "I'm sorry, Kurt." Tears glittered in her eyes. "I just wanted to be with you so much, and at the same time I was so afraid you'd reject me…"

He gave her a strained smile. "Now, now, Kätzchen. You know that if anyone can give a Jew a run for their money in the guilt department, it's a Catholic."

"Too true, love." Kitty sighed. "The journal worked some, I guess, but there's a lot… I couldn't bring myself to write down, even for you. I need to tell you what they did to me, so you'll understand." He nodded, drinking from his own mug.

She looked off into the wisps of steam. "It was Brestin and Smith. They… were usually most of the way dressed, and they used condoms, as if touching me skin to skin would contaminate them. I was always naked, vulnerable. Sometimes they would play with my breasts, but generally they didn't." She sighed. "Like I said in the journal, making love with you gave me… expectations. But the way they used me, it was so frustrating. I wanted pleasure so much. I think I was on the verge of doing whatever they wanted, just to be touched. I tried not to respond, but sometimes, habits kicked in…"

She looked down, her face red. "Those were the only times they made sure I orgasmed."

"And with me, you feel you don't have to hold back your appetites any longer."

"Yes! You're my husband… it's alright to want to be with you."

It was his turn to sigh. "Diabolical. The short version of what they did to me, was condition me to fear an aggressive woman. It's no coincidence, I think."

Kitty put her empty mug down on the floor. "What do you mean? What did they do?"

He shivered, his eyes staring blankly. She leaned forward, putting her hand on his velvety arm. His arm felt chilled as he looked off, his eyes hollow and dull. She reached out with a foot and started the tub draining, then rose to her feet and drew him up also. In an awkward dance of exchange, she reversed places with him, getting him inside the tub, while she straddled the edge. When the water emptied out, she set it to filling once more.

"Sit down, love," she ordered, and he did, hissing as the hot water reached his sensitive places. She cushioned her bottom with a towel and sat on the edge, both feet in the water between his. She caressed his long toes with hers.

He sighed finally, relaxing in the hot water, and giving her a rueful smile. "Sorry Kätzchen. I didn't mean to lose it like that."

"Of course not." She poked at his tail with her foot, as it slid along the far edge of the tub. It shifted behind him, and he sat up a little to let it move to his other side. The spade end rose dripping from the warm water, and she took hold of it.

"They would strip me down to a collar with two leashes." He stared at the tub faucet as if it were very interesting. "They would arouse me, touching me… but if I made any motion to touch them, or ease myself… they would haul tight on the leashes, and whip my genitals."

His eyes closed. "Did you ever see handlers with a fractious stallion? No, you're a city girl. They put a special bridle on him, one that pinches tight around the nose with a tug of the lead. But one lead alone cannot hold him, he can just charge the one who's holding it, and make his escape. But with two leads, they can keep him controlled, balanced between the handlers. If he makes for one of them, the other one can inflict terrible pain. The collar that they put on me was a choke collar, and between the two of them, they could throttle me to unconsciousness, and did so a time or two, just to prove they could."

She caressed the spade, rubbing the fur up against the nap, and smoothing it down again.

"My only viable option was to stay still and let them do what they willed. If I even got an erection when they told me not to, they would punish me. It wasn't a big whip, but when applied to such tender flesh, it would hurt a lot. And if I tried to resist or defend myself, I was choked until I couldn't breathe."

"Did they… find your, um," she took one hand off his tail to gesture at his backside, "uh, your 'on' switch."

The tail curled over her hand before he answered, squeezing. "No, they weren't interested in learning such things about me. They focused on molding my behavior." He squirmed in the water, embarrassed, and uncomfortable. "I've… become afraid of being aroused."

"And I just wanted to jump your blue bones." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Fuzzy. I was so selfishly angry when you asked me to slow down. I… I just wanted…" A sob choked her voice. "Just wanted to be touched!'

He reached out and stroked a tear from her cheek. "That I can manage. Come to my arms, _liebe_. Let me hold you."

She stared at him, surprised. "In the bathtub?"

He shrugged, a half smile on his lips. "Why not?"

Kitty shook her head, smiling back at him. She climbed into the water in front of him, and scooted up against him. She leaned back against his chest, swirling the water around his legs, watching the short nap lift and wave in the current. His arms wrapped around her nude form, and rubbed her neck, her shoulders.

He nuzzled her neck, kissing her earlobe and along her jaw. She shivered against him, but not from cold. "They've done their worst against us,_liebe_. We won't let them win, or ruin what's between us. I love you."

She lifted up to peck his lips, emotion shining in her eyes. "Oh, God, I love you, elf!"

He stiffened at the passion in her voice. "Easy, Kätzchen; easy. Just give me time to relax."

She nodded, and leaned back on his chest, stroking the wet fur and simply enjoying the contact.

He shifted a little, finding a better position for his tail against the back of the tub, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh. "Only someone who loves me would be willing to cuddle in tepid water and smell my wet fur."

She snorted from where her head was pillowed on his chest. "It's clean wet fur. It's not like you smell like a…pet or anything."

He chuckled, a little. "Well, thank you, Kätzchen. I've had enough of collars and such for awhile."

It was her turn to stiffen. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean…"

He put a finger to her lips, and gave her a small smile. "I know." He stroked down her arm, then between her breasts. She froze at the overture, not wanting to scare him. His finger traced her ribs, then came up and ran along her prominent collarbone from shoulder to shoulder. "You are so thin,_mein schat_z. I've never seen you so. You seemed to eat well at our dinners…"

"And half the time I'd lose it when I got back here. I've had a sour stomach for while."

"Very well, then. I am hungry, and I'm fixing myself something. You are having some, too, and a large glass of milk."

She looked up, confused. "Since when do we have milk?"

"Since yesterday, _liebe_. You don't remember that great load of food Howards brought?" He urged her to stand, and snagged the folded towel with his tail, handing it to her.

"Howards was here? I don't remember." She wrapped it around herself, and got one for him.

"Combs, too. They are our new trainers, and no one else; just them. _Herr_ Rudolf tasted the General's boots down to his knees yesterday. That is why we are together again." He smiled as he dried himself.

"Well, good for him. I guess it's not always terrible here."

"Just mostly." He tucked the towel around his waist and went to the kitchen. The perishables had been put away, but the counters were still littered with boxes of pasta and canned goods. She looked through the items, amazed at the quality and the variety. It was definitely unusual fair for Hounds.

He started her out with an apple and a big glass of whole milk. She sipped and nibbled, watching him bustle around, tail sweeping casually by his ankles under the hem of the towel. He nuked some potatoes and diced them up along with part of an onion, and got the mess frying in vegetable oil and margarine. She gained weight just looking at it. Two of the frozen steaks were defrosted and soon were sizzling in a pan as well.

Kurt set the plates down with a satisfied smile. "I didn't put any pepper on this, and not much of garlic." He tapped her half-empty glass meaningfully. "Season to taste, carefully." She smiled and started eating. He had easily twice the amount of potatoes as he'd given her, plus a stack of toast, juice, and an apple and milk glass to match hers.

"Making up for lost time?" she said. His normally slender frame was almost gaunt, his ribs easily visible above the towel.

"Oh, I have been eating, _liebe_," he said. "Circumstances or not, my background won't let me refuse to eat, and my physiology makes it dangerous to regurgitate what I've eaten. Hypoglycemia is nothing to play with." He took a big drink, smiling at her with an endearing milk mustache, before he licked it off.

"I once told you that nerves wear on my metabolism. When I'm anxious or concerned I go into a constant state of tension and alert. Thus, I burn more calories even if my activities don't change. Since they separated us, I have had nothing but nerves."

She understood the feeling. The time apart, after they had so thoroughly entangled themselves in each other's lives and hearts, had been simply horrible. "I know what you mean," she said softly.

"If your stomach acts up, let me know. There's medicine for it, and milk."

She nodded, and then frowned. "Aren't we late for work?"

"No work today, _liebe_. And tomorrow morning you're going to the clinic for your stomach. Other than that, we don't have to be anywhere until training time Monday afternoon."

She shook her head, and her tone was bitter. "The General again, no doubt. A second honeymoon."

"_Ja_, it was him. And some rudimentary concern for our health, I imagine."

"Got to keep the animals healthy, I suppose."

"Kätzchen, please. Don't dwell on it. It doesn't help."

A sudden spike of anger made her words harsher than she meant. "What does?" She reached out to him in quick apology.

He took her offered hand, and raised it to his lips. "Love does."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Kurt, that was mean."

"It's alright." He stroked her hand. "Have you had enough? Not too much?" She shook her head. "Then I have an idea," he rose, helping her up as well. "Why don't we get dressed, and dance the way we used to?"

He pulled her to the bedroom, but she resisted, smiling. "No."

He turned back to her. "You don't want to dance?"

Her smiled widened. "I don't want to get dressed." She pulled the towel from around her and draped it over a chair, looking at him.

His eyes looked her up and down, gentle, caressing. Loving. He freed his own towel, and arranged it next to hers, standing unashamed.

She gave him her hand again, and let him lead her to the main room. She moved the table out of the way and he put music on the turntable.

Happy music; not too fast, began playing. His taste was perfect, as always. She gave herself up to it, and to him. She was blushing at the taboos she felt she was breaking, but it was exciting, too. "This is so naughty," she whispered, leaning in to brush his chest with hers.

His wicked grin shone in his dark face. "I like naughty girls." His hand ran down her to grope her ass. She giggled and shimmied as he held her. He let her go abruptly and changed records. The music of Bolero started; the quiet flute and castanets.

She slipped her arms around his waist, and his arms slid around her back. They had come full circle. After all the intimacy, and after all the fear, they came back to this; a meal together, and dancing to Ravel's classic. She was clinging to him, to the promise of love and joy he represented. He was cradling her in his arms, holding her tight to him. She could feel his heart beat as clearly as her own.

They barely moved, and were scarcely dancing. They were pressed too closely for that. Slowly, he dipped his head to her neck. He brushed his lips across her skin. His hands moved, stroking across her back, her shoulders, and her waist. She remembered his fierce passion, and oh, how it hurt to see him hesitate like this. Those bitches must have wounded him so much. But she could heal him. Their love could heal them both.

The movements were stronger, the dancing clearer. Bolero was mounting up; building, building. She licked along his neck, tasting him, feeling the dense blue fur under her tongue. He shivered as she did it, and again when she blew cooling air on the wetness.

"Kätzchen…" His voice was husky, echoing with the same need that she was already feeling.

She rubbed against him, slowly, deliberately. Her kisses trailed down to his collarbone. She bit him there, quickly, just enough to make him gasp. His tail slid up and stroked her thigh, curling around and squeezing. She smiled against him. It was always a good sign when his tail got involved. It was so closely tied to his unconscious mind.

He let out a ragged sigh, and was caught in a jolt of shudders. Tightly bunched muscles under her hands finally began to relax. He put his mouth next to her ear, his breath tickling. "_Ich liebe dich_."

"I know, Fuzzy elf. I love you, too."

His soft erection was getting firmer, pulsing against her. She paid no outward attention to it, though part of her was focused on nothing else. This was sweet torture, for her and him, but the longer it went on without pain and without fear, the better he'd be.

It was trust they were building, the trust that had been destroyed in him. He was remembering what it had been like to be together, she felt. Remembering that she'd never hurt him. "You know I adore you, don't you, my husband?"

"_Ja, mein schatz, mein Frau_." The deep husky words made her shiver. Bolero was louder; a good part of the orchestra was involved now, but still building and building. His tail on her thigh found traces of moisture, from sweat or desire, she wasn't sure.

He breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring. She knew how keen his sense of smell was; he'd know. A rumble started in this chest, his hands roaming her more pointedly, cupping her bottom and just skirting the underside of her breasts. She moaned a little, and he responded with a deep and passionate kiss.

The tail coiled upwards a little, the spade freeing itself to explore. She gasped when it traced the curve of her lower belly, just above her pubic hair. The timpanists were booming with the orchestra now, but she barely heard them over the sound of her heart.

His erection was hard now, throbbing with his desire. The whole orchestra was playing now, triumphantly. He growled deep in his chest and swept her up in his arms. He carried her off to the bedroom just as the song executed its dramatic collapse.

"'Bout time Fuzzy," she whispered.

"Hush, Kätzchen. Just… hush."


	24. Kurt - Fall of Darkness

It took a good deal of time until Kätzchen finally had enough of him, and only some of that was spent engaged in sex. They'd spent much of it just happily entangled, reassuring each other of their devotions. She fell asleep with a smile, and he found once he faced his fears, they melted away as he lay in her arms.

Kurt sat crouched at the foot of their bed, his tail wrapped around her hand as a tangible link between them. They still had much recovering to do, physically, mentally and emotionally, but they were on the way now. Or at least as much along the way as was possible, here. Soon enough it would be time to face the world again, and all its cruelties.

He gazed at her sleeping form, relishing the sight and feel of her. It was nearly Monday morning, but he'd had so much rest the last couple of days that he woke well before the alarm. She had an appointment at the clinic today, but he felt the change in circumstances and diet would be healing enough for her. She was young, and she'd bounce back.

Shifting positions gingerly, he knelt down and lowered his head. He prayed silently… _If there was any way, Oh_ Gott_, to be free, and still be together, let it be so. We can and will endure as long as we must, if necessary, but oh, to be free… Lord, let it come to pass_. He lifted his eyes to her sleepy smile. He smiled back at her, and squeezed her hand with his tail.

"I hope He's not offended by naked praying," she said.

"He who formed me in my _mutter_'s womb? I don't think so." He climbed over to lie next to her, holding her.

"Aren't you cold? You've been out for a while… your pillow is cold."

"I can take more cold than you… my fur and metabolism keeps me warm."

"Just like you keep me warm, Fuzzy." She nuzzled closer, rubbing her face against him. "It's Monday, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so, _liebe_. But since the clinic isn't open for sick call until 9:00am, and that leaves us a lot of time yet. We can enjoy a lazy morning for hours yet…"

"Mm… I can think of some things to do…" She turned his head and nibbled along his ear, making him shiver with sensation.

"You…" he said with a rumble, as he took firm hold of her with hands and tail, "… are insatiable."

"You bet, lover," she purred, smiling up at him. "I thought you liked that."

"I do…" His mouth fell on hers, and no more was said for a while.

Cleaned and dressed, they walked in step to the Clinic. He sat in the waiting room while she was admitted, and tried to remember if the guard was the same man he'd done exercises for when they were found together. He'd about decided he didn't care one way or another, when she came back out with a pink bottle and some papers.

"More pepto?" She nodded and stowed it in her leg pocket. "We're to go to Admin now," she said, indicating the papers. He set off with her and wondered what was wanted of them now.

When they checked in at Admin, a young lieutenant came out and led them to his office; he said his piece in a bored tone. "Based on your exemplary records in the service of Shield, you are hereby designated as senior Hounds. Here are your pins." He laid down two small brass circles, with the enameled red, white, and blue of the Captain's Shield.

"This designation enables you to skip two work shifts each weekend, which you are to coordinate with your supervisor. Early or late, or both in one day; however you work it out with him. Give me your name cards." They did, and he cut them in half, giving them new ones, with an image of the pin on the cards as well as their pictures and information.

"By the order of General and the Training Department, every Friday evening you are to report to the Psych Department for a conditioning renewal session. This conditioning is to prepare you for an upcoming mission. That is all."

"Yes sir," Kurt said, putting on his pin.

"Thank you sir," she said. She looked at him and put hers on as well. The lieutenant stood up, "Dismissed." He looked pointedly at the door. They left.

Down the hallway, Kurt caught her eye. She raised her eyebrows, and he made a deliberately florid dismissal gesture with his tail. "That is all," he mocked, in a whisper, looking down his nose at her. She covered her mouth as she fought to control a bout of the giggles. A guard they passed gave them a stern look as they hurried out of his sight.

It was honestly a relief to have their old trainers back. The men were tough and even mean at times, but at least they weren't liable to pull any 'extra-curricular' stunts. Howards and Combs were both well aware of how their relationship kept them stable and grounded. Free of the crippling apprehension they'd both been under, he threw himself into the routine of his training with an abandon that seemed to surprise everyone.

Kurt had been wasting far too much energy in fear and resentment these last few months. Now he could just perform to the best of his abilities. It wasn't a large crowd, but holding back had never been his style, not when he could give something his all.

"My, what sharp teeth you have…" Kitty said with a grin. "I've certainly been seeing them enough today."

He stepped closer to her, tilting his head closer to her, "All the better to eat you with, my dear…" He smiled at her blush. "It's simply… this is as straight forward as it gets, _liebe_. We are good at this, so we may as well enjoy ourselves while we're at it."

"If you say so," she said, then with more confidence. "Yeah, why not."

The practice went on until after a particularly flamboyant tumbling maneuver, he'd bowed to the trainers. He grinned, enjoying their shocked expressions.

"Alright, Nightcrawler, this isn't the circus. Bowing to the crowd is not an effective combat tactic," Combs said with a drawl.

He didn't make the sarcastic reply that he could taste on his tongue. He simply raised an eyebrow at the man. "Yes, sir."

Howards shook his head, trying to suppress a smile. "Go hit the weights, you two, I guess we need to work you harder. Although I'll tell you one thing, I wish you'd have shown this much enthusiasm when we first started training you.

"We were different people, then," Kitty said. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he put an arm around her.

"Increase all your reps by 20, and be prepared to work your butts off tomorrow," Combs said.

"_Jawohl_," he answered with a smile, and they went to do their weights.

The rest of the week continued in the same vein, with the training getting progressively harder in the attempt to absorb their excess energies and make them fit for this big upcoming mission.

When Friday came, they both reported to the Psych Department. They were separated and Kurt was lead to a partially reclined leather chair that had been modified with him in mind, with the removal of the cushion at the low back. He was directed into the chair, and his arms and legs were strapped down. A medical tech gave him an injection, and left the room. The lights dimmed and three large monitors flickered to life in front of him. One was centered on the chair, and the other two were hard on the left and the right.

His head began to swim from the drug, while fast cut scenes of a patriotic nature flashed on the screens, marching from screen to screen from one side to the other, then changing directions, or bursting out from the center. The eagle-bearing flag of Shield, Captain America, Mount Rushmore, the reflecting pool of Washington DC, the launching of the Heli-carrier, the signing of the Surrender Treaty of Europe, Hounds kneeling, reciting the litany; these and many more images were shown to him.

Kurt began to silently recite the rosary to himself. The words were so ingrained and familiar that not even the drug and the images could confuse them. If this was only the opening salvo, this was going to be an intense session. A voice began to drone on about his debt to Shield, to whom he owed his life and everything that he had. He was never to forget that his duty was to kill the enemies of Shield. Images of specific enemies were shown; Mutants fighting Shield agents, and killing civilians.

A movie clip began to show on all three screens. A tall man walked purposely, his massive body gleaming with the bands of metal he seemed to be made of. His eyes darted from place to place, and he moved protectively in front those who followed him. A slightly smaller man came next, his step graceful and majestic. He wore the helm that Kurt had seen on the mysterious coins, and a long flowing cape that nearly brushed the floor. Next to the second man walked someone almost as tall, a wiry man with white windswept hair, whose movements were quick and full of energy. Rear guard was a lanky man, who wore thick goggles on his face, lit from within with red light.

"Our enemies are deceptive. They exist only to lie and to kill those not cursed with mutation."

It seemed that Shield was ready for the men. A tremendous flash turned the rest of the scene black as pitch in comparison, and the camera jumped and fell to the ground. When it focused again, the first man stood gawking down at a hole burned through his midsection. The metal flickered and melted away, and he turned to flesh, collapsing to the floor with a gush of blood from his mouth and the wound.

Now exposed, the helmed man tried in vain to protect the bared and blacked bones of his right arm and side with his other hand. The man with white hair had reacted quickly enough to shove the other two away from the center of the fatal flash, but now with most of his throat burned away, he reached out desperately to the man with the helm. He barely managed to touch the other's arm before he, too, fell.

The man in the back was holding his face, his cheek raw and red, his hair scorched and the goggles smoking faintly. The helmed man snarled, and made a beckoning gesture. Metal objects from all around flew to him, even his helm becoming subsumed into the shining mass before him. He thrust his hand away, and the mass surrounded the goggled man, even as he struggled to resist. The sphere of metal shot away, breaking through part of the roof and wall of the building.

Alone now save for the dead, he straightened with an effort, facing the direction of the blast, and the camera. Blood stained lips turned up in a faint smile of victory before agents rushed past the camera like jackals upon a wounded lion, clubbing him down to the ground, as the scene went dark.

"Even with their leader killed, they claim he yet lives. It is a myth they use to perpetuate their doomed cause."

The screens lit again, with grainy surveillance film of a white room; apparently some kind of morgue. On steel tables the corpses of the men Kurt had just seen killed lay with the terrible expanse of their wounds readily apparent. Nearly naked, only brief cloths covered their loins, except for the marker drawings on their flesh anticipating the post mortem examinations apparently yet to be performed.

The heavy door to the room tore open like wadded notepaper. A man with the same helm and cape walked in, and looked down at the bodies. The metal tables spread out like blossoming flowers, quickly folding petals around their burdens and detaching from the floor. The man turned and left, the capsules following behind him as the shot faded.

"Whatever trickery they used to make it appear their leader yet lives must be exposed for the good of Shield. This new leader must be terminated at all costs. But he is not the only target you must be aware of."

A crowd of agents writhed around a figure, and fell like flies around him. The camera zoomed in on a snarling rictus of a face, splattered with blood and crowned with stiff crested hair. Protruding from between his knuckles were long bony spars dripping with blood.

Weapons gouged into his body, and bullets pounded into him, but the injuries healed almost as soon as they took hold. The only thing that matched the rain of brass shell casings were the fall of deformed slugs as the mutant's flesh rejected them. The last of the agents dropped and he spun about, looking for more prey. Seeing none, he lifted his head and roared in savage triumph.

"Our enemies are more animal than human, and they harbor lesser breeds among them as well."

A negress floated upon snapping winds, her light brown skin contrasting to her dark garb and stark white hair and eyes. Her expression was one of fury, as lightning forked down from around her, holding off the pursuit of two figures below her. The camera focused on them as they reached their vehicle.

One was a red headed woman, well endowed with curves. The other was a figure that had been shown before, lanky and tall. Only one side of his goggles were lit up with red, and a shock of white hair showed on his temple above the darkened glass and scarred cheek. The black woman landed beside them, and the clawed man gestured them to come inside the machine as the scene cut away.

"These four are your primary obstacles. You must destroy them in order to kill their new leader, the false Magneto. You have a personal interest in their deaths, as well."

Another clip of the man with claws, showing how he used his weapons to rip through clothing and flesh. Then the scene cut to video of Karla, before she was bandaged. There was something familiar about those sets of three parallel cuts that were visible on his friend.

"She was a Hound, just like you. Our enemies did not care. They crippled her and left her for dead. You must do your best to rid the world of this scourge."

The Shield March began to play, the center screen showed him and Kitty on their knees reciting the litany in profile. On the side they faced, the Shield flag waved proudly against a blue sky. On their other side showed the now familiar helm, containing a grinning skull.

"You know your duties, you know your mission. Only your best efforts will do against this challenge. You must give it your all."

The screens went dark, and all that remained playing was the sound of his and her voices reciting the litany over and over. Kurt recited his own words of allegiance under his breath along with it, as he always did. _'Ave Maria: Gegrüßet seist du, Maria, voll der Gnade…'_ Not even now would he let their poison take a stronger hold on his mind.

His head began to clear, and he fought to retain the images he'd seen, that threatened to fade into his unconscious. He wanted to remember what they were trying to put into his mind. Only then, could he really think about it, and make his own decisions on what he'd seen. The two Magnetos for instance. Clearly both had the ability to manipulate metal with but a thought, but hadn't one of them been a smaller man?

And there was something… wrong… about the implication that the savage one was responsible for Karla's wounds, but he couldn't quite figure out why. It was something about the images that were fading faster than he could pin them down.

The lights came back up and the tech unstrapped him. "Come with me," the man said brusquely. Kurt followed until his keen hearing caught the sound of Kätzchen sobbing. He brushed past the man, following his ears until he found his beloved.

She sat slumped in a chair like the one he'd been in, weeping. She was no longer bound, but what she'd been shown rooted her more effectively than straps. He put his arms around her. "Shh, _liebe_," he said. She flung her arms around him, and he could feel her teeth grinding in tension against his shoulder. "It is all right, Kätzchen. My session was rough, too."

"Oh, Kurt," she whispered. "They showed me who hurt Karla." The anger in her eyes was fierce, and it made him feel uncomfortable, as he was still unconvinced of that.

"They also showed me… the one they say harmed her." If she registered the qualification he'd added, she didn't show it.

"Let's get out of here," she said. "I don't like this place."

"Nor do I, _liebe_." He gave a last suspicious stare at the equipment before they left the room.

When they went to work on Saturday morning, there were far less regular workmen in Disposal. A lot of gear was being packed and shipped down to the surface. It looked like the Carrier was being stripped for action, and changes like that always made him nervous. Kitty worked on the standard sorting chores, while he found his boss on a break. "Joe, where are the workers?"

Joe looked at him with a harried expression. "Non-essential personnel are being evacuated. Hell, I'm even supposed to teach that snotty lieutenant over there how to do my job. Punk." He sighed. "You two try to keep out of his notice, 'kay? He don't like Hounds."

"I understand. But… do you know why this is happening?"

Joe snorted in derision. "Since when do they tell me anything? Get on back to work now."

They didn't work either of the late shifts on the weekend. It was a compromise they'd made, so they'd each get half their Sabbath off. As days progressed, they could hear down in their rooms a lot of clangs and noises from the under parts of the Carrier. Helicopters buzzed nearby, and cranes were doing something to the exterior, but they couldn't tell quite what.

Kitty didn't want to talk about the conditioning. Kurt wrote down all that he could remember in his cramped German script in the journal. He didn't want to lose any more of it than he already had. He didn't know why there were being fed these images, but he felt it would be important to remember.

Monday, at lunch, before they went up top for training, the sounds were outside their bit of the hull. He ported them to the beam and they watched, as workmen on cables guided a large metal plate on to their vent, and bolted it in place. Bit by bit, the light visible between the slats faded, until it was completely darkened. It was darker now than he'd ever seen this area, even during moonless nights.

"Um, Kurt?" His lady's voice was shaky, and he quickly went to her.

"It's alright, _liebe_. I've got you." He lifted her to her feet, and ported them to the deck below. "Damn them for taking our sky away."

"Yeah…" she hugged him hard. "Come on. It's time to go if we don't want to rush."

"_Ja_, it is." There was nothing permanent here. Kitty had told him Karla said that to her, before the end.

How very true that was…


	25. Kitty - Magneto's Raiders

She and Kurt arrived at training Monday morning, both anticipating what the session would bring. Kitty gave a grim smile at the cutout posters of their primary opponents on stands, near an odd looking map on the table. Labeled "Magneto's Headquarters," it looked like a rocky island, depicted in three dimensions: top, side, and bottom. Kurt cocked his head and looked confused. Howards smiled, and flipped a chart over top of it, the Heli-Carrier depicted in a similar manner. Her love's eyes widened, "A floating island?"

"Close, Nightcrawler. Orbiting." Howards turned back to the first map again. "Our scientists say this is an asteroid that the original Magneto drew into our orbit. His abilities allowed him to hollow it out and use it as a fortress. He called it Asteroid M."

He fed a film reel into a player, and a magnified view of the starry sky showed on a television screen. The image panned until it came to a patch of occluded stars. The picture magnified, and a light sensitivity function activated when the rough edged mass blocked out all but the faintest background stars. It was an unevenly shaped rock, pitted with ancient craters. As the camera's zoom reached its limits and the image began to blur, man-made alterations to the rock could be seen. Small windows, and what could be air locks pierced the surface layers, and constructions of mysterious purpose dotted the exterior.

He continued, "The short version of this mission is you're training to travel to and infiltrate the asteroid, and kill the false Magneto and his Raiders. This is a big priority with us, and you two are the key. No one can keep you two out of someplace you want to get into, and we'll be working hard to prepare you for what you are likely to encounter."

Combs nodded and stepped forward. "We captured pieces of one of their shuttle planes, and were able to repair the air lock mechanism and reverse engineer it. The rocket shuttles our forces will be using are built to be compatible with their locks, so you'll be training in low gravity flights and providing entry at the locks when you get there."

Howards called them over to the chart. "This represents years of surveillance and patient study. Most people, Congress included, don't appreciate the difficulties involved in destroying an enemy that you can't reach. They've launched their attacks with impunity from Asteroid M, knowing we had no way to strike back. They had the moat of space on their side, and the superior position by way of gravity. We'll be covering the information here, and you'll be taking packets of the info back with you to study in your quarters."

Kitty looked down as they went over the chart, concentrating so hard her face was a mask. Kurt stood beside her, his tail coiled around her hand. She gave a brief squeeze, then freed her hand to point at an area of the chart, and asked for clarification…

Tuesday, and two of the enemy portraits were front and center in the training room. Howards handed them a new pair of information booklets. The labels said "Cyclops and Psion," and featured severe photos of the one eyed man and the red headed woman.

Beginning the briefing he pointed to the male, "He has called himself Cyclops since we first discovered him at Xavier's when he was a boy. An orphan of questionable mental stability, he has none the less grown to be a formidable leader, one to be reckoned with."

The next gesture indicated the woman. "She has called herself by a few names, but nothing consistent over the years. Shield Intel labeled her 'Psion', because of her mutations, and she's adopted the name due to an obvious lack of originality. She came from a middle class family that managed to disappear before Shield could track them down from what was left of Xavier's records."

Combs took up the discussion, unveiling a chart of their known activities. "Since Magneto took them in, they've been actively working against Human interests. You can see here, how he dropped out of sight five years ago, after the Raider's leadership was executed. He started showing up again a year later, but he was a different mutant. His right eye no longer projects the dangerous red energy, and we are pretty certain he can no longer see out of it, either. He's approachable on the right flank, so keep that in mind. It's a weakness you can exploit, if you can distract her or lead her from his side."

Howards again indicated Psion's portrait. "While he is present at nearly every raid they undertake, she shows up much more rarely, generally only at the bigger terrorist attacks. Intelligence things she and the black woman had offspring about 15 years ago. Notice the five-year gap in her sightings? Some of the psychs have tentatively attributed her spotty appearance to some form of maternal instinct, postulating she stayed behind with the offspring."

Kitty felt her shoulders grow painfully tense. This red haired woman was everything that she was not: classically beautiful, with a fabulous body… And not only were all mutants in Shield custody treated more harshly for the actions of these few renegades, but she had the… the nerve to have a child… when she, and Kurt, and all the rest were forever barred that… Her teeth grated together in barely suppressed rage. She could hate the woman just for that.

Kurt brushed her hand with his, and she tore her heated gaze away from her enemies to look at him. He looked worried, the scars on his brow were furrowed with it, and his lips moved in a silent question. "_Liebe?_"

She nodded that she was alright as Howards cleared his throat. "If I might have your attention please? We have a lot of material to cover… That's better. Shield's files record that the first time these two were encountered was in Westchester, New York, at Xavier's ill-conceived 'School for Gifted Youngsters'."

Kurt's frown only deepened as he watched her, but she needed to concentrate to learn this material…

After lunch Wednesday, she sped through the hallways. Only one in every three lights was lit in most of the corridors, and every fixture that could be removed was gone. "What's the hurry, _liebe_?" Kurt said.

"They said they were covering the savage today. I'm eager to learn more about him."

"You are… eager to learn how to fight a fellow mutant?"

"Mutant or not, he's a monster who glories in blood and pain," she snapped.

Kurt stopped short, and his golden eyes blinked at her. "And you know this… how?"

"It… it's obvious! Those films; the way he mowed people down…"

In a patient voice, he spoke softly. "The ones he fought in the films were Shield agents, so it could merely be self defense. If I had known how to fight before they found me, I would have… resisted, instead of trying to run. Not that running did me any good…" He idly scratched his chest, as he usually did when he remember his capture.

She shook her head, irritated. "You're just being dense. Anyone could see that he's just an animal…"

He sighed and looked away, leaning against the wall. "_Ja_, an animal… All he'd need to complete the image would be a coat of fur _und_ a tail…"

A shiver ran through her at the bitter irony in his tone. He stared down at his hands, which toyed with his tail, smoothing the soft fur that covered it.

"I… I didn't mean you… Kurt…" She touched his velvety cheek, needing him to know that she didn't believe that about him…

He looked up at her again. "I'm just saying that you should keep an open mind, and not buy into everything they say. After all, I have far more cause to be called an 'animal' than _Herr Klaws_ does, just on my looks."

She took a deep breath, trying to let the anger go and nodded. "I'll try."

He smiled faintly. "Okay. Let's go."

When they arrived, it was classroom time again. This time the cutouts on the stands were of the black woman and the hairy man. If the portraits were life sized, then he was much shorter than she expected, definitely shorter than the woman. "These two are called Storm and Wolverine," Howards said. Pausing he gave a brief smile. "And yes, he really is that short. It's the first time everyone says about him, but don't underestimate him because of it. The bone claws that spring from his hands are extremely hard and dense, making them dangerous weapons. They can be cut or broken, but his mutant regeneration can repair them as easily as the rest of him, although it seems to take a little longer with them."

Combs passed them their briefing documents. "We think he's Canadian, and that he first escaped our custody in the Sixties. There was an outfit interested in training him as a tool, much like a prototype Hound, but they couldn't pin him down. It's too bad, really. The plans they had for him would really have been something."[*]

Kitty cocked her heard. "The Sixties? He doesn't look that old."

Howards nodded, and tossed another folder down. "He doesn't look to be this old either, but this is conclusive proof that he served with Canadian units in the Second World War." Kurt flipped the folder, and they examined the yellowed enlistment and service photos of the burly man in a foreign army uniform. As one, they looked up at the cut out.

"That was taken four months ago," Combs said, "and not one wrinkle or gray hair betrays the fact that he stormed the beaches of Normandy on D-day. It's disgusting, really."

Howards gave him a look. "The negress is from Northern Africa. She has the uncanny power to manipulate the weather and conjure atmospheric effects. While you've already been shown what he can do, she's a much more tricky problem. Strong winds, freezing temperatures, and electrical arcs are all part of her arsenal. Don't try to fight her from a distance; she excels in that style of combat. Instead, we recommend that she be rushed and physically incapacitated."

Combs nodded, "We say incapacitate her, because you won't be facing her alone. If you ignore her and fight the others while she provides windshields and covering fire, you'll be in trouble. So, keep her occupied or knock her out fast. After you've defeated the others, you can finish her off then."

"We think these two are mates, and that he's the father of her offspring. He seems more protective of her than he is for the other raiders. You might be able to take advantage of that." Howards caught their eyes to emphasize his point. "Keep in mind here that the goal is to know the enemy."

Kitty felt her jaw tighten again, but she struggled to remember what Kurt had said to her. A glance to the side showed worry along with tension on his face. She sighed. It would be so easy to give in to the hate that threatened to boil up from within…

Day four, and the two cutouts on display both appeared to be of Magneto, but there were subtle differences. "The one on the left," said Howards, "Is their leader before the executions five years ago. The other is a more recent image. You can see for yourself, the second man is slighter and shorter. We are certain the new leader is an imposter. The real Magneto is dead, there's no doubt about that. What we don't know how the duplicate is mimicking the original's abilities, but the displays thus far have convinced us that he has a full mastery of the powers that are associated along with that costume."

"Regardless of who he is, or how he's doing it, he's cashing in on his predecessor's legacy. "Just as the first one did, he's attempting to show that mutants can successfully resist the power of Shield." Combs paused for effect. "He must be killed. They can't have an infinite supply of ersatz Magnetos, at least not ones who can use the powers. Go over these briefings, and get a feel for what he can do. We'll answer any question you might have about him."

Kitty frowned. "But, my knives…"

Kurt nodded his agreement, "_Ja_, and my gauntlets…"

"…Are made of a super strong, electrically resistant non-magnetic alloy," Howards said. "Even super magnets can't touch the stuff. Your weapons are expensive beyond belief, but then, all your training has led up to this point. For this mission you will not wear the explosive collars. They might be able to trigger them remotely, prematurely ending your mission. We feel that you are sufficiently motivated that they won't be needed." She nodded absently, as Howards continued, "Now save the rest of your questions until after you read the material…"

"Yes, sir," they said in chorus.

Friday afternoon, she and Kurt walked to the Psych Department. She wasn't looking forward to it. She still had jumbled nightmares about the last session. She shivered as they took her to the conditioning room, with the chair facing the screen. The tech strapped her in, and gave her the injection. He watched until her eyes started glazing, and left, activating the session. Some unknown amount of time later, Kurt was helping her to rise.

She couldn't stop crying, and she felt sick to her stomach. She stumbled as he led her away, and she growled, pulling away from him. Planting her fists and forehead against the wall, she felt herself tremble. She was stronger than this, dammit! She was a Hound, and it was time she started acting like it. She drew in tearing gasps of air, and fought for composure. Kurt let her be, though she could feel him nearby, waiting. Oddly, the knowledge didn't seem to comfort her.

Her face felt like stone when she drew herself up again. The pain she saw in her husband's eyes was a faint discomfort, but most of her concentration was devoted to the singular effort to keep functioning. She gave him a short nod. "I'm all right now, let's go."

"As you say, _liebe_." His voice was soft and subdued. Thankfully, he had nothing else to say during the descent to their quarters. When they arrived, he put on some music and fixed them snacks. She ate absently; hardly knowing what she was putting in her mouth. He wouldn't be able to leave it alone, she knew, and she didn't have long to wait. Soon enough, after they sat on the couch, he broached the subject she was manifestly unready to talk about.

"If… you want to talk about it, Kätzchen, I'm here. I was able to remember some of what they are putting in our heads, and if we…"

"No." She shook her head and turned away. "Look, I don't remember, and I don't want to remember. I'm barely hanging on as it is."

He gently persisted. "It might help if…"

"Please, Kurt. Don't… don't hurt me like this." A whimper escaped him, and she felt queasy.

"I would never want to hurt you, _mein liebe_, I'm sorry." His voice sounded of sad acceptance. "I'll be back, there something I need to do." He rose and picked up a candle stub, and walked into the between space that she had avoided since the utter darkness had fallen.

The record player was giving off a rhythmic hiss by the time he returned. He drew her to her feet, and led her to their bed. "We have time to nap before dinner. We can use the rest."

She slipped onto the covers besides his warmth, and sighed. "Rest… is nice."

A notice was posted opposite their door the next morning. They were to skip work, and head for mission training. The space gear and shuttles weren't mockups this time; they were the real deal. Kurt looked surprised that everything was happening so fast, but Kitty felt only relief that the preparations were over. If anything she felt excitement… one way or another, it would all be over soon.

Screens showed that the sky outside was turning black. From conversations around them, they learned that the Carrier had been rising gradually all week, clawing its way to the upper limits of the atmosphere. The fuel tanks of the rocket-propelled shuttles were insufficient for a long journey and a lot of maneuvering. The Carrier needed to provide as high a launch base as possible, closing the gap to the Asteroid in high orbit.

They were instructed to don pressure suits over their fighting leathers and board the hardened command shuttle. There was less room inside this one. Its hull armor was the thickest of the flotilla. Besides themselves, it held the Strike Commanders and the Special Ops teams. Kurt and Kitty were there to overcome any obstacles in gaining access to the Asteroid's interior.

A technician trained in air lock operations gave a last rundown on what problems they might encounter - to a bulkhead in their general vicinity.

Kitty's mouth quirked. The way some of these agents acted, you'd think that mutation was contagious or something. Half the time they didn't want to acknowledge their existence, which was fine with her. Kurt was quiet, unusually so. She found she was glad, actually. She needed to keep her focus sharp if they were to accomplish their mission.

Launch caught her unprepared. She was running her anatomy lessons in her head when the lurch came. Kurt swept his arm across her and kept her from impacting on her harness. She gave him a nod of thanks as they roared away from the Carrier. The thunder of the rockets was all that could be heard for ages, then the primary burn stopped and they were on their way, through the lower orbit and heading up.

Engagement with the enemy was easily discerned. Comm chatter between the shuttles picked up and their vehicle executed a few dodges to evade weapons fire from the target. Kurt pointed with his chin at a video screen she hadn't seen before, where the rocky body of their goal steadily grew as they approached.

A sudden rise in the pitch of the chatter got her attention. One of their escorts was in trouble, and before another shuttle could come to their aid the pilot's panicked voice cut out with finality. The hush that followed was only broken when one of the demolition guys started grousing. "Why couldn't the stinking muties have been on that shuttle? But no, they had to be safe, here on the command shuttle…"

The mission commander twisted in his straps to give the man a glare. "And you'd get the air lock open how? With explosives? Yeah, that'll help, won't it? The Hounds are specially trained for this mission, so shut yer yap!"

"Yessir," the grumbler said, but he and the others still glared at the two of them.

Kurt stirred in his seat, his tail twisting about in a serpentine way that earned them even more evil looks. "Something's different," he whispered to her. "I can feel 'down' again. We're out of full freefall and falling down towards the Asteroid." As if to confirm him, the pilot reported retro-braking maneuvers.

The chatter seemed to indicate that they were too close for the fixed emplacements to target them. For long minutes, the sway of Kurt's tail recorded the tiny movements of their craft. With a soft clang, they were still. The technician unstrapped and pulled himself to the air lock. After a few minutes he reported that they had successful engaged the Asteroid's door mechanism.

"Dig in, Captain," the Commander said. The pilot flipped a switch and the ship shuddered as multiple explosions erupted around the air lock. The commander grinned at his startled men. "We've sunk our fangs in like a tick into the surface of this rock, and it's gonna be real hard for them to get rid of us." They laughed at his joke.

He looked over at the Hounds. "Shadowcat, you've got the first door. Phase into the lock chamber and get it open."

"Yes sir," she said, and undid her straps. Curiously enough, she didn't feel dizzy. The weightlessness of her power seemed to acclimate her to the micro gravity. Kurt came with her, gracefully using only the slightest movements to soar easily to their goal. He helped her seal of her helmet and checked her airlines. The yellow eyes behind his thumbs up gesture were melancholy, but clear.

She nodded and turned to the lock. Taking a breath, she ducked her head and walked through. Once in the chamber, she looked around. It was set to vacuum, and locked to prevent entrance. She initiated the air cycle, only to have it stop and reverse back to vacuum, by remote control, no doubt. She opened the emergency panel and triggered a manual override.

Air flooded in and normalized, and she turned to the locks on the door. Again, there was a manual backup, as if the designer never anticipated that infiltration might come from within. A short while later, the door opened to Kurt's relief, and the Commander's approval. "Good work, Hound." She nodded, taking off her helmet. He looked past her, and she ducked out of his way. "Nightcrawler, is that little window big enough for to see through and teleport?"

"The space beyond looks very dark, _mein Herr_, but I will try." He pulled a flashlight out of his tool pouch, and stepped past Kitty into the chamber. His tail drooped as he entered, and he paused. "Commander? I think there is nearly normal gravity here."

"That's impossible," the technician said with scorn. The Commander fished some coins from his pocket. One he tossed over his shoulder, where it drifted lazily, then slowly fell to the side of the shuttle pressing against the rock mass of the Asteroid. The second he tossed at the air lock. It started to drift up, and then its arc ended with a normal sounding clatter as it bounced sharply off the decking.

"Hmmm," was all that the Commander said before he nodded at Kurt.

He peered through the little window, shining his light beam first this way, then that. Finally he nodded, and _BAMF!_ He was no longer in the lock chamber. She had a moment to shiver from his absence, and then the inner air lock started to open and a soft light shown through the glass.

Kurt grinned as he bowed theatrically to them from the interior corridor. "Welcome to Asteroid M, _mein Herren und Dame_."

[*] The Weapon X project. (_X-Men 2_) _No Adamantium for you!_


End file.
